


Glow

by LiteratureWork



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Help, Kevin Brockmeier, Random Acts Of Kindness, Where your pain glows up AU?, book AU, glowing pain, pain/comfort, warmhearted story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteratureWork/pseuds/LiteratureWork
Summary: The Illumination is a phenomenon that makes the wounds people bear glow up and be visible to everyone. It is completely harmless to human health aside from making one acknowledge it. It started on the third of October 1910. Exactly how far will some go to douse the lights of another's pain?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was made for the FMA Big Bang 2017 and was based off a book I read this summer called The Illumination by Kevin Brockmier. This was my first time writing for this event and I am very grateful to have so much support on it by Quiet Leaf who betaed the whole story. Really helped me to acknowledge some of my writing bugs like repetitive words. Now I am a little more conscious of writing! They really helped pull this story together. You can see some of their own work on ff.net. Dzioo made the art for the FMA Big Bang 2017 and it looks AWESOME. I was really excited when I got paired with an artist and every time Dzioo gave me an update on their progress I would always be reminded how amazing they are! Just look at it!

[Quiet Leaf fanfiction](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4701560/)

Dzioo[ Art Tumblr](http://dzioo.tumblr.com)

[ **__ ** ](http://dzioo.tumblr.com)

**_Glow_ **

Chapter One

The Illumination was what people were calling it now, this phenomenon of light. As he stared down at his own aching hand, Roy thought that it was ridiculous to put a name to it. The eccentricity had started on 3 October, 1910, and he remembered it very clearly.

As the world was listening to their radios, learning of the Illumination through the awestruck broadcasters, Roy was shuffling through his dark bedroom, trying to find the edge of his bed: he was tired. He'd just finished a long convoy to Central Command to return some gear his unit had borrowed for the war. They should have given it all back ages ago when they first returned to headquarters, but the 57th Division had just been deployed when they got back. Roy had to wait several months, and finally hearing they were back in Central, he went on the hard drive from Eastern Command to return everything his unit had borrowed. Unfortunately, there was a mix up with the numbers and it took twice as long as it had to. Not only was it a late night when he returned home, but Roy's back ached from the horrible humvee seats—the cushions were practically just metal with a small sheet of fabric over them. He felt like a wreck, but at 19:20 on October 3rd, 1910, he could actually see that he was a wreck.

A dulled white light shone suddenly from his back, sending an odd glow through the darkness of his room. Its pulsing light startled Roy so much that he stubbed his toe against the post of his bed. The light then became blindingly bright. It seared out of his toe and broke through the shadows, igniting his room and possibly his entire house. Roy wanted to let out a yelp of shock but he was caught in complete awe as he stared at his own foot as a twinkling light emitted from it. He watched it dull with his pain, fading as his toe stopped screaming at him for his misstep. Soon it vanished, and his room was plunged into darkness once more, the only source of light being the dull throb of his back. Roy stumbled over to the standing mirror in the corner of his room, careful of his furniture, and stared into it. He turned his back to it and saw the warm light twisting through his muscles and around his spine right where the ache was. It pulsed as his back throbbed like a lighthouse on the Cretan shore.

What was this?

Roy had looked down and reached a hand out and gently pinched his arm. He winced as a dull glow lit up underneath his twisted skin and faded as he released it from his grasp. He repeated the action. Roy couldn't remember how many times he pinched himself before the fact that he glowed had settled in his mind. His pain lit him up like a lantern.

That was the Illumination. It spread around the news and appeared in every newspaper, on every radio station, and in every gossip ring around Amestris. Everyone was talking about it, and those that didn't still communicated the strangeness through the many cuts, scrapes, and abrasions they found on their body. It wasn't just in Amestris either but everywhere. The Xingese originally thought it was a new form of cancerous sunburn. Arugo thought it was a new infection born from the dead sea. Drachma thought it was biological warfare from Amestris, which was quickly denied once the scale of the phenomenon was observed. The world's population was infected by ailments like tuberculosis, tetanus, Crohn's disease, polio, leprosy, the flu, and even simple headaches, which were only brought to light by this Illumination. Depression, anxiety, mania—all appeared as a clouded aura around their victim, like the emotional rain clouds had actually settled on their shoulders. People could see where and how they hurt, and others could too. Neighbors could see the pains and troubles of others. Preachers and followers thought that this was a sign of God; they imagined that the Illumination would bring help to those that needed it. It would end suffering. Roy laughed at that; nothing had changed. People still crawled around with aching knees and terminal cancer growths in their kidneys. People still cheered when they saw the gleaming shine of a busted lip on a boxer in a ring. People still walked down the streets with the obvious glow of pain, distress, and suffering. The only difference was that others knew just how bad they hurt.

Roy frowned and he shook his head, staring at the carpal tunnel in his hand from writing his reports all day. He saw the webbing of his nerves through his hand as the light of his ache throbbed in it. It really was stupid putting a name to it. The Illumination wasn't an infection, it wasn't an object, it did nothing but bring notice to what was already there; pain. It didn't deserve a name, but they had to call it something.

He could have stared at his hand for hours, but a bolt of lightning flashed through his office window, jolting him from his thoughts with the accompanying roll of thunder. With the blinding light of the storm, he had almost thought that the Illumination was covering his entire body. He thought he was in pain! He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, angry that the stupid light had gotten the better of him.

Trying to put his thoughts back in order, he shook his hand out and picked up his pen once more, ignoring how the light in his hand seemed to glow brighter. A while into his work, there was a knock on his door that Roy could have mistaken for another roll of thunder. Hawkeye was standing in the door holding a glass of water and a small pill bottle in her hand. A bright light was shining off of her shoulder through the thick fabric of her uniform; she had been on the firing range the previous evening. Roy noted that she must have fired more than she used to and it took a tole on her shoulder.

Hawkeye, ignoring his studying gaze, walked up to his desk and set the glass and bottle down gently. Roy glanced down at them curiously and then back at her. "You have a headache," she told him as if he didn't already know. He took out his pocket watch curiously, already feeling the throbbing pain that she had mentioned, and stared into his reflection in its smooth metal backing. A blaze shone out of his temple that he hadn't noticed before. He groaned to himself and muttered a thanks to his lieutenant as he traded his watch for the glass of water and medication. He gulped them down and finished the water silently. Hawkeye waited patiently by his desk.

"Did you take some?" Roy asked her softly as he handed the glass back to her. She looked just as confused as he had been when she offered him the pill, but then the Colonel motioned to her shoulder.

"Yes sir, I have," she said stiffly. She felt the same about the Illumination as he did. It was a bother, but it had been years since it first started and they had to get used to it.

Roy sighed as he sat back in his chair, stretching his back out.

"Sir, Edward is going to be in to turn in his report. They had an incident on their mission to New Optain; there were some civilian casualties in the flood."

A groan escaped Roy's lips as he continue to massage his newfound headache, one that he knew would Illuminate when his youngest officer walked through the door of his office. He reached across his desk and picked up the bottle of medication, jiggling it lightly. The pills clattered around the inside like a tinkling bell.

"Mind if I hold onto these?" he joked, though in all honesty, he secretly wished he could keep them. Hawkeye held out her hand expectantly and he slapped the bottle down in her palm, regretfully relinquishing it from his care.

"You're an officer, sir, buy your own," she told him.

"You make me wish I was still enlisted," he whined, upset that officers had to pay for everything from lunch to uniforms while enlisted got it for free. Hawkeye gave him a smirk, probably knowing her joke had gotten the better of him, and left his office. The door closed as another round of thunder rolled across the sky and shook his window frames. His temple glowed a little brighter with the loud sound, and it felt like the needle in his head became a knife. He rubbed it out, knowing that no matter how hard he raked his skull, he could never get deep enough to extinguish the light.

It was a few hours before there was another knock on his door to use as an excuse to ease the pain of writing with his carpal tunnel. He set down his pen, but didn't even have to acknowledge the knock before the door flew open and his newest headache presented himself.

Edward was soaking wet from head to toe; not an inch of him was dry. Roy mused to himself that if he were to sit the kid next to a wet puppy, he would not be able to tell the difference. The kid even wore the same upset pout that a puppy would. However, unlike a puppy it wasn't from being wet.

A piercing light radiated out of his heavy jacket around his right shoulder and his left leg. People who didn't know of Edward's impairment would think that the stupid child had just pulled a few muscles or twisted his knee in his rampages across the city. Those that did know him understood that his automail ports lay in the exact position of the Illuminations. It hurt him even after the surgical scars had healed.

Thunder rolled through the office, rattling the floorboards. Roy saw the lights around Edward's port pulse brighter and expand, flowing down the automail limbs like a sleeve or a glove. It glowed for a few seconds as Edward clenched his left hand around his shoulder, letting the gleam fade in his grasp. The light then flew back to his shoulder port to await the next flare. The metal had no feeling. There were no nerves in fake metal limbs, only gears and wires that could not feel pain, yet they lit up. They glowed because Edward could still feel what was no longer there.

…..

Roy remembered when he first found Edward in Resembool, just a few days after the Illumination had started. He had driven all the way from Eastern Command, and though it wasn't as far as Central, his back was glowing when he got out of the car. He whined to his subordinate about his back, but she just shot him a look that told him to quiet down. He knew he deserved it, as he had been complaining the entire ride about his back. Maybe he should see a chiropractor.

An elderly woman answered the door to the Elric's neighbors' house. It was Rockbell's Automail, a family of mechanics well known for their work in prosthetics even in East City. For as wide spread their business was, they lived quite humbly. The old woman didn't seem pleased to meet them, her disapproving expression emphasized by the burning blaze of her body. Her joints were lit up with arthritis, showing her skeleton wherever she ached. Roy could clearly see every bone and tendon in her wrists and fingers, pained by years of tinkering with wires and gizmos. The Illumination even got to her lungs, where it seemed ages of smoking had taken their toll. She held a pipe between her lips, which were pursed upon seeing the navy blue of their uniforms, but it held no tobacco. She must have taken the light as a sign to better her health—Roy wished Havoc would do the same.

Though the old lady, Pinako Rockbell, didn't think highly of the military to begin with, Roy probably made it worse by pushing past her into her house.

He knew a few things about Edward Elric before actually meeting him in person: he knew that Edward was a genius. It was the whole reason why Roy was here in this bumpkin town, Resembool. Elric was an alchemist of such skill that he could be accepted into the State Alchemist Program without question.

Roy knew that Edward Elric was at the Rockbell's that evening—he didn't even have to ask the old woman to know that. With the amount of blood in the basement of the Elric's own home, they had to have gone to the closest doctor they could, which was the Rockbells themselves. With the mess being only a few days old, he knew that the house had not been abandoned long and that the Elrics were far from dead. What he didn't know about Edward Elric was that he was a child.

The brightest light that Roy had ever seen had come from the eleven-year-old child in the wheelchair that day. Light like the sun burned out of the kid's shoulder and his leg where they had both been reduced to stumps; it was blindingly bright, and Roy had to shield his eyes for a few seconds until they could adjust to it. Everyone was relatively new to this phenomenon, but Roy easily understood that the brighter the light, the more pain had caused it. With the amount of pain medication the kid must have been on, he still burned like the gates of hell. He just couldn't imagine that a child was in so much pain that he was lighting up the house like Amestris' Yule festivals. However, though the child was shining like a bonfire, the light never reached his eyes.

Roy didn't mean the Illumination—that was the last thing he wanted the kid to have more of. It was the fire of determination, the glow of will, fluorescence of lively energy that burned like a candle in everyone. For Edward, it wasn't there. His eyes were a blank slate that only held one word: defeated.

Roy talked to Edward Elric for a long time that day—more like scolded—and he only held his breath once. A waterfall of starlight seemed to fall out of Edward's shoulder when Roy was in the middle of explaining what the State Alchemist Program entailed, making him stop in his tracks to watch the Illumination do its work.

It painted a picture of a white transparent arm which laid itself on the arm of the wheelchair that Ed was confined to. A glowing finger lightly tapped the edge of the armrest as if it was fidgeting. Roy watched as the kid gritted his teeth at the sudden light; he moved his left hand over to grab and soothe the ghostly limb, but it just went right through the light and hit the armrest.

"Brother, are you all right? Your arm—" the hollow suit of armor echoed out, his voice concerned. The young boy trapped inside was known as Alphonse—that was another thing that Roy didn't know about Edward Elric; he had a brother. Roy only knew what Alphonse was supposed to look like because of some family photos hanging in the hallway of the Elric house. He was supposed to have two golden eyes instead of two fiery red ones. He was supposed to be only a few feet tall, about the height of his elder brother, not bridging seven feet. He was supposed to be a child who experienced the world through touch and sound, but now he was a suit of armor that felt nothing. Not one glimmer of the Illumination touched him.

"I-it feels like… knives," the little child choked, gripping his armrest with such ferocity that Roy expected it to splinter and break.

"Phantom limb pain." Pinako stated the cold hard fact. Seeing the young boy bite his lip as invisible knives stabbed and twisted in the air below his residual limb, she grunted and stood up from her seat across the table, hobbling over on her arthritic glowing knees to where the boy was sitting on the other side. She bent over the ghostly limb and set her hands on the stump of the arm. Her hands gently massaged the kid's shoulder, being careful not to aggravate the new scars from the surgery. As she ran her hands over the limb, the light flickered and sputtered as she soothed the pain that stemmed from the missing limb. Edward's hard grimace relaxed as the light sizzled out, his pain and the ghostly limb gone for now. Seeing that it was gone and her job was done, the elderly woman hobbled back to her seat, ready to complain more about the military and the State Alchemist Program. Edward's wide eyes turned to his shoulder, curious as to what this new pain was. He hovered his hand over the stump, which was still glowing, even though the image of the limb had retracted back to the light.

"It never did that before," he hummed, the tiredness in his voice quite obvious to Roy.

"It will ease with time, but you are going to have to get used to it," Pinako told him, her voice quieter than the usual gruff tone she spoke with.

"But… I won't have to get used to it if I get my arm back," Edward mumbled, surprising nearly everyone in the room. Roy remembered quite clearly how high his eyebrows rose on his forehead. He couldn't have been more amazed.

Edward looked up to Roy expectantly, his eyes hardening. They looked to be focusing, like a lens of a camera capturing its picture. Roy could see the flint strike behind his eyes, trying hard to ignite the fire there. "The State Alchemist Program gives access to the library right? And research documents and everything?"

"Yes, along with having to take some assignments and follow a soldier's life, you do get unlimited access to literature, lab space, and networks with other alchemists around the country. Should you pass the examination and keep your record in good regard, you will get a decent sum of money to fund your research," Roy told him, trying his best to ignore the hateful glare Pinako was giving him. The woman had stated exactly why she didn't want him there. She had told him exactly why the military was the devil, and she even stated exactly why Edward was not going to take him up on his offer. However, against all of her concern, her loss, Edward was considering the State Alchemist Program all the same. After all, he'd already lost so much that his freedom as an Amestrian citizen probably wouldn't be missed.

"Alphonse, your soul is still here. You're not dead, which means this can be reversed. We know now that human transmutation is impossible. Death can't be undone. But… I think we can get your body back. We just need to search for the answer," Edward muttered, talking more to himself than to anyone in the room. The kid's quick eyes stared at the table for a long time, taking in every option. Someone who only recognized Edward as a child would think he was thinking about staying home. However Roy saw Edward for what he was—a genius. And in that genius brain, he was already working on a way to return his brother and himself back to normal. Pinako knew that too, but she wouldn't have it.

"You don't need to join the bloody military to research alchemy. You're just a kid—I couldn't imagine you selling your soul away to blue devils like these—" the woman scolded the two boys. However, Roy could already see that the kid's mind was made up.

He stood up from the table and stretched his back where it still ached from sitting in the car all day. The Illumination flared at him in its aggravation but soon calmed down into a gentle glow. No one seemed concerned with his light, and he wasn't either. They all carried their own lights. They all had their own wounds to tend to. Roy didn't force Edward to make a decision, knowing that it would have been a long battle with Mrs. Rockbell if he did, but he left his name and contact information and told the kid that he will have a spot in the State Alchemists exam reserved for him should he take him up on his offer. With that, he gathered his coat and his lieutenant and left the bright light of the Elric's pain for the dimmer light of Resembool's midday sun. They walked to the car in silence and climbed in, ready to start their long drive home. Roy winced as he sat down and buckled into his seat. His back flared.

"When we reach Lassid, we are getting out and taking a nice long walk," Roy ordered Hawkeye as she started the car, already imagining himself strolling down the streets, stretching his aching back.

"Sir, I have enough change for you to grab a pay phone in town—"

"Why would I need to—?"

"To call a chiropractor, sir, on your walk."

….

The file looked as if the kid had thrown it into the nearby river before he came to turn it in. It was soaking wet, and Roy feared to open it only to tear the soaking wet pages. So it stayed flat on his desk, untouched. The other drenched mess, however, stood shivering across from his desk with his wet puppy pout still on his face. It was obvious that the kid didn't like the rain, and that the rain did not like him.

"Here's your stupid papers," Edward gritted out grumpily as gravity took him down into one of the two seats on the other side of Roy's desk. He slouched down into it so far that his neck was resting on the back of the chair in such a way that it made his head stare intently towards the ceiling. Roy looked up just to make sure that there was nothing especially interesting up there and then returned his attention to his subordinate. The kid was obviously tired, in pain, and wanting to go home. However, Roy needed him to give him a verbal account of what happened in the aid he was supposed to give New Optain through the flood.

"Report," Roy said simply. That one word carried a string of questions with it. _Did it go well? Did you catch the train? Is the river contained? What is the damage to the town? Where is your brother? Did you catch a cold? Did you fill out a casualty form AD1300 for the people who were hurt? What happened?_ All of his questions were wrapped into one single word, into two syllables. It really made life easy. Edward, however, didn't seem to agree.

"It's all in the file. Read your own damn report."

"It is more like soup than a report, Fullmetal. Try putting it in a plastic bag next time to keep the papers out of the rain," Roy retorted, shifting the sodden mess to the corner of his desk with the end of his pen. The kid looked like he wanted to snap back but he knew that when advice was given, it should be taken into consideration for next time. It didn't mean he had to use it, he just had to remember it as an option.

Knowing that he still had to give his verbal report whether if Roy could read his papers or not, Edward let out a sigh and somehow managed to sink even deeper in his chair. He seemed exhausted and telling stories by the fire light of his illuminated ports just seemed to exhaust him more.

"We made our train to Optain, but because of the weather it stopped short at a water and fuel station in Wakudu for turn around. We had to find a car to take us the rest of the way," Edward told him. The young officer explained how he and his brother had hitched a ride on some farmer's hay cart and then got a trolley to the older town of Optain itself. The wind and rain were horrendous from the storm and they nearly had to turn back several times in fear of being swept away. The bridges were all taken out by the spreading and roaring river, which made their journey even longer than it should have been. With the soil being so water logged and loose from the bulging streams, it was impossible for Edward to simply make a bridge that could carry their weight safely. They arrived at Optain several hours past the expected time of arrival put out by Roy himself when he assigned him the mission, and the town was a wreck; the entire riverside had been evacuated and sandbag walls were being washed away with the ferocity of the flood. Some of the houses had already been destroyed by the raging waters, and people were stranded on roofs. Edward and Alphonse both rushed forward to help quell the disaster, but their boots immediately began to fill with water and Edward nearly got swept away in the current himself.

"Hell…. Colonel, it was bad. I could barely get to the riverside by myself. Alphonse wanted to help but I couldn't let him go near the water. If he fell…. Oh my God, Colonel, if he fell his blood seal could have been history. He wouldn't listen. I had to pull rank on my own brother and use my pocket watch to make him stay on shore," Edward exclaimed, his voice still carried the disbelief and fear he must have held in the chaos. He closed his eyes and ran his hand down his face, exhaustion showing clear. Stimulation seemed to be the only thing keeping him awake at that point. However, even he knew that the quickest way to get out of there was to finish his report so he could leave. So he continued and painted a picture in words of how he helped stop the flood.

He'd had to pull the team back from the river and make a barrier farther into the city. They were risking too many lives being right near the chaos of the flood. Even though they had to sacrifice some houses, the majority of those being severed by their makeshift dam were already being swept away from the roaring waters. Edward used alchemy to turn the cobblestones of the streets into a wall to hold the river at bay and keep it away from the rest of the town. Optain's disaster team, a band of citizens who were helping evacuate and carry sandbags, reinforced the wall with heavy sand weights to keep it up. Unfortunately, they weren't fast enough. A section of the wall broke down, and like an annual dam release, all hell broke loose. Edward rebuilt the wall, but damage was already done. People were toppled, broken, or completely swept away. Blinding lights roared through the rain of the storm as flashes of broken bones, lightning bright fissures of concussed brains, or the haunting glow of waterlogged lungs speckled the darkened town like stars in a clear night sky. A particularly heavy wave caught the side of a battered building and brought it down on top of a few farmer's heads.

"It was like I was standing in the middle of the galaxy looking at these millions stars all around me. I never saw so much light before," Edward hummed, his bagged and tired eyes distant. The kid seemed disturbed from the mission and Roy didn't blame him. Death was never an easy thing, especially when one thought it could have been prevented. Edward found out what it was like for someone to die at a very early age, but with the Illumination it seemed to be different. Roy actually didn't know what it looked like for someone to die with the Illumination. Of course, he had seen countless deaths in the Ishvalan War—more than anyone should—however, the Illumination started after he returned from the desert.

He wondered what it looked like for someone to just lose all sense of pain and become still. Was the light that already consumed their bodies snuffed out like a candle? Or did it escape them as their soul dispersed? He remembered listening to some of the chaplains in the command center say that the Illumination was a way for your soul to seek freedom and relief. Every scrape glowed because that was your soul seeking the world outside of its body. Death was just a release of a soul from the capsule that contained it. Roy thought the notion was ridiculous, but it still made him curious about what it was like to actually see death itself. Edward probably had enough experience with it by now.

"How many casualties?" Roy asked, hoping to push the conversation onward and get to the end of the report.

"Six altogether. Three farmers, a banker, the station master, and a house father. They all have AD1300s filled out along with the search and recovery forms the 698th brought when they finally decided to show up," the child ground out, resentment obvious.

"They weren't dispatched until the following morning. They got there when they were supposed to, Fullmetal."

"Well, maybe if they got there sooner people wouldn't be lit up like a fucking yule tree!" Edward exclaimed, throwing himself out of his chair in a sudden rush of energy. Water droplets flew from his soaking wet coat sleeves as he flung his arms out in exasperation, and the drops hit Roy right in the face. The kid was drowning in water and Roy knew it wasn't just from walking to the Command Center from the train station. He was still in the same clothes that he left in. The flood water had drenched him to the bone and the rain added to the weight. He could see how cold the Major was as he turned his back to his desk and started to pace the office floor to warm up. His body was shivering so much that his hand shook as he ran it through his sopping wet bangs in an attempt to get them out of his face. Roy thought of lighting a fire for him to warm up by, but he had no fuel other than overdue paperwork. The kid just had to endure it along with the pain from the storm that shone from his ports in an astoundingly bright light.

"Why did we have to go by ourselves?" Edward asked, his voice no longer harsh but reflective as the verbal report made him go back and consider the circumstances in hindsight. Golden eyes turned towards Roy and caught his dead center. They held the burning glow he remembered igniting all of those years ago in Resembool, but they were being drowned in a watery grief from ghosts so recently made and encountered. "If we had more people… if I made that wall stronger then maybe—"

"Fullmetal, no one knew it was going to be that bad. We thought that one State Alchemist would be enough. Be grateful that you were able to stabilize the situation enough to prevent the entire town from being swept away," Roy told him, his voice only slightly softer than his usual hard tone. The golden eyes looked away from him and back down at the floor as if contemplating something. He looked distant, and Roy knew that the farther someone wanders into their thoughts, the more they get lost to reality. "Edward, are you going to be okay?"

The kid looked up, and the normal cocky smirk grew back on his face as the he reached up and tiredly massaged his neck with his automail hand. A little chuckle escaped his lips, as if he was laughing at Roy's concern. However, the Colonel knew that Edward was just telling him it was nothing to worry about.

"Me? I'm fine, I guess. Alphonse, though… he's taking it hard. He was able to save one casualty's family but… there are only so many people you can carry at one time, even if you are a giant suit of metal. When he went back…" Edward shrugged his shoulders, the exhaustion evident in his voice and the bags under his eyes.

"I guess it's good that the Illumination doesn't affect your brother, or he might have strained his back from saving all those people," Roy commented lightly, hoping to continue to lift the conversation out of the depths to which it fell. It was a weak attempt to clamber out of the mud pits of grief, but it was an attempt all the same. Edward, however, took the little lift Roy was offering him and bounded out of the ditch. It seemed he didn't want to stay in the past for too long.

"Like you? Sheesh, you're glowing like a firework about to go off. You would think a bastard like you would see a doctor, or something," the kid snorted as he pointed out his pain. He looked him over several times and Roy caught his eyes lingering on his radiating carpal tunnel, his glistening back pain, and his luminescent migraine. "Is it an old age requirement to light up like that or what?"

"Is it a requirement for short people to be so bratty?"

Edward threw many profanities his way, all of which Roy tuned out while he tried to find a better position to ease his back. Those days of sitting in uncomfortable chairs still took a toll on his back, even though he was no longer doing long convoys in rickety military vehicles anymore. The light pain medication Hawkeye had given him earlier didn't help noticeably, which made Roy very upset with the amount of light his body was giving off. Was it an old age requirement to acquire more Illumination? He had seen countless elderlies with their entire skeletons glowing from osteoporosis, their hearts in flames from cardiovascular disease, and their eyes being robbed from them in bursts of light from diabetes. In children, it was the occasional cut or scrape glowing like a little candle from a day of roughhousing in the park. He wasn't old, was he? He was only thirty, for Pete's sake! If he was aching this bad already, he feared for what his forties or senior years would bring. Why didn't he go to a chiropractor?

Thunder rolled outside and snapped Roy from his wandering thoughts and back to the report he was being presented with. The sound of the thunder was so loud that Roy almost missed the pained hiss that escaped his subordinate. He watched with wide eyes as Edward doubled over his left automail leg as the sputtering light of its Illumination trickled down from the port all the way through the toes like a waterfall. The light glowed fiercely, and the kid furiously tried to massage the pain from his stump with both of his hands. The only thing Roy could hear was the pitter patter of rain against his window and the almost-but-not-quite silent curses that were muttered by his subordinate. It seemed like hours but was probably only minutes before Roy saw the light sputter and flicker out in Edward's leg, and the only lights left on him were those around his automail ports. Edward let out a relieved sigh and urged his tired body to straighten out. The kid was a wreck.

"Hey, can I have some of your aspirin before I go?" Edward asked him eagerly. It was obvious he wanted some relief to the sparkling lights around him.

"Don't have any."

"Of course you have some, you always do. If you didn't your headache would consume your ugly head," he growled at him, clearly angry that he wouldn't share.

Roy held up his hands as if to show that he wasn't holding any bottles of medicine behind his back. "Honestly. I don't have any. I ran out. First Lieutenant Hawkeye shared hers with me."

"Damn. I just ran out at the barracks. Looks like we are both in the hole," Edward grumbled as his eyes wandered out the window, probably imagining the trek through the rain to the drug store. He was already soaking wet and looked like he was on the verge of falling over. Roy glanced at the clock and noticed that his lunch hour was approaching. Was it really only twelve? He felt like he has been there for ages.

As his back gave a rather particularly painful twinge, he realized that it was his spine that thought he has been in the office for ages and not just himself. What he wouldn't do just to get out of this chair for a good few minutes. What he wouldn't do to go to the chiropractor.

Roy groaned as he stood up, his back celebrating the relief brought by movement. He twisted back and forth to shake the light from himself before yanking his greatcoat off the back of his chair. Its heavy hide, though soaked when he first came into the office that morning. had shed its water and was now dry and warm, unlike Ed, who still resembled a wet dog.

"Come on, let's go," Roy muttered, snatching up his hat and tucking it under his arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" Edward asked, befuddled by his sudden motion. "I don't need you to walk me to the store, I'm not a child!"

"You are a child until you're 18 years old. I am not walking you to the store, I'm going myself. Hawkeye made it quite clear that she won't be sharing anymore of her pain relievers with me. 'You're an officer, sir, buy your own,'" Roy mocked with a smirk as he walked out his office door. He knew full well that the Lieutenant could hear him.

Hawkeye stood across the office at her own desk, her shoulder flaring with a radiant glow. She gave him a warning glare, and Roy smiled back innocently. Though they bickered back and forth on occasion, it was all in light fun. Hawkeye, however, didn't seem to like fun, because she always had to get the upper hand. This time it was with the giant stack of papers she lifted lifted up which were meant for his desk. Roy's smirk disappeared as fast as hers grew. She just had to ruin his day.

The others in the office seemed to notice that he had his raincoat on and was heading out, and were all too eager to ask favors of him so they wouldn't have to fight the storm outside themselves.

"Hey are you going to the store in this weather?" Sergeant Fuery asked, his voice actually inquiring. Roy noticed that his hands glowing from various cuts and burns; he had been tinkering with the unit's dysfunctional radios and vehicles all week and had managed to get few bumps here and there. It also seemed that his hands were permanently stained with blackened oil no matter how many times Roy told him to go wash them. He currently had a small radio lying on his desk, gutted with all wires exposed. If Roy listened very hard, he could hear the light static through the microphone, signalling that it was fixed. "I know the food isn't the best in the mess hall but going out in this weather you could get sick, sir."

"Getting some aspirin. Do you want anything?" Roy asked him. The Sergeant pushed his glasses up as he thought for a little bit but shrugged as if anything other than the wires and mechanisms in front of him escaped his mind. Second Lieutenant Havoc, however, didn't hesitate to ask his commanding officer for a favor.

"How about a pack of cigarettes, sir? Some of the nice ones, none of those knock off sticks. They light for two seconds and cost twice as much," the man complained as he sat back in his chair, his legs kicked up on his desk. Roy had to try and imagine what him being productive actually looked like because he had yet to see it. However, beneath the cheap smile and the bedridden hair from a long night with his girlfriend (one who Roy knew for a fact would only last long enough to count as a one night stand), there was the faint glow of the man's lungs showing the wear years of smoking had cost them. They were like faint paper lanterns lit up in his chest. Roy knew it was Havoc's decision, but it was a habit that he had to stop.

"I am not going to buy you those cancer sticks just so you can fill the office with their nasty stench and empty my wallet," Roy reprimanded the him, but he was relentless. Knowing that he could not weasel a few smokes from his boss, he went to the next best thing.

"How about you chief? Don't you wanna do me a favor and—"

"Fullmetal isn't old enough to buy cigarettes!" Roy scolded the man as he shoved Ed toward the door. Out of everyone in the office, Havoc was probably the worse influence to have around his youngest subordinate.

Edward squirmed out of his grip muttering that he could find the door himself. They walked through the Command Center in silence and watched lower-ranked soldiers scatter around and quiver under the intimidation that simple rank brought on them. Roy remembered his days as a private and understood very well the difficulties of their job. They were pulled this way and that by one leader and the next, reprimanded for one thing then the next, just to watch their higher ups become hypocrites to their own speeches. He felt a sense of empathy for them that some officers liked to ignore. Did that make him enjoy watching them run around any less? No. No, it didn't. So with a smirk of pure amusement, he and Fullmetal made it to the building's exit and stood under the roof's edge, building up the courage to step foot into the cold, drowning rain.

Raindrops poured out of the clouds in buckets and hit anything beneath them with a deafening roar. Roy found it hard to believe that water droplets could be loud, but he could barely hear himself think, let alone what someone next to him might have to say. He guessed that was the beauty of rain—it gave you time to relax and wander in your own thoughts. That was why Roy hated it.

He sighed as he brought his cap out from underneath his arm, and he was about to put it on when he caught sight of his subordinate next to him. He was standing tall—well, as tall as he could—with his arms crossed and his eyes staring out into the storm. He was as focused as anyone could get. Someone who didn't know him might think that he would walk into the rain with his youthful energy without a problem. They would imagine that he was too determined to let a little rain stop him. Roy, however, saw the soaking wet, shivering kid beside him who was willing to go into the storm only so he could get back home to his brother for a well needed rest. Roy looked back down at his hat and relinquished a disbelieving breath as he slapped it down on his subordinate's head. It fell over the his eyes and he seemed startled at first, but when he straightened the thing out, he scowled at Roy ungratefully.

"What the fuck is this for?" he asked, taking the large tri-cornered rain cap off of his head and throwing it back at him. "I don't need your stupid hat to keep me dry, I'm already wet as it is."

"The last thing I need is a sick soldier who can't work. You will wear it and return it to me tomorrow when you have dried off," Roy ordered him, none too gently slamming it back on his subordinate's head. The kid growled as he pushed it back from his eyes; it was way too big for him and made the him look even more like a child than he already was, which was probably one of the reasons that he didn't like it.

"You're going to be out of uniform if you don't wear this stupid thing," Edward warned him.

"Not as much trouble as you would be in if you don't obey my orders," Roy retorted, easily pulling rank over him.

"Wet match."

"Shrimp," Roy retorted. He stepped out from the minimal cover the lip of the roof provided them and into the torment of the storm. With how loud it was, he could only faintly hear the squeaking of his subordinate's lengthy curses and colorful vocabulary. On second thought, maybe the rain wasn't that bad.

They left the gates of the Command Center and slowly trudged their way down the streets towards the nearest drug store. It was a silent walk, almost peaceful, if Roy ignored every single drop of rain that pelted his head. Puddles on the sidewalk formed rivers down the streets and flooded the grates that lead into the depths of the sewers. They were so deep at some points that Roy was afraid that the water would seep over the brim of his boots and soak his feet.

It was an ugly day, but he supposed every day wasn't that pretty to begin with anyway. As they walked, Roy saw many other civilians running through the street, trying to seek shelter in some of the oddest places. He spotted a taxi driver with his liver glowing bright white from years of flooding it with alcohol hiding in the safety of his cab as his customer, an old woman with a rather luminous hip replacement, struggled to open a ratty old umbrella. A young child with a viciously Illuminated head cold was standing outside the sweet shop awning, desperately trying to taste the colorful flavor a rather large lollipop that his clogged nose denied him. Roy knew that elsewhere, his mother was probably worried about him getting sicker than he already was.

The drug store was nothing special. It had dim, flickering lights of a faulty and out of date electrical system that lit up the haphazard wooden shelves stocked with random and sometimes questionable goods. The only business the shop really saw was the occasional flood of hungry soldiers who desperately wanted an escape from the office and a better taste in their mouth than what the cafeteria offered. Homemade subs were offered in the back of the store, and Roy had enjoyed them on more than one occasion. For as run down as the place was, they could put together a mean sandwich. He would often eat it outside on the lopsided wooden bench that tilted if you shifted your weight unevenly. However, today he wasn't getting a sandwich. He didn't expect it to be all that pleasurable in the flooding streets and the sub would be a soggy mess should he try to take it back to the office.

Roy browsed the shelves for where the store kept its over the counter medicine and only found anything of the likes in a small corner on a bottom shelf. It held a few measly boxes of off-brand antihistamines and eye drops.

Roy sighed as he got down on his knees and bent down to get a better look at the stock. His back scolded him angrily and lit up, giving better lighting than the fluorescent bulbs above him ever did, though it was more painful. Pushed to the back of the shelf, he saw one tiny bottle of pain relievers hiding behind the nasal allergy spray. He reached in and grabbed it after sifting around to make sure there weren't any more hiding in the shelf. He let out a breath of air as he turned it over and read the label.

"Did you find them?" Edward asked as he came around the corner, having been searching the other half of the store. His boots squeaked and squashed on the tile floors, filled with water like a sponge. He still wore the overly large hat on his head. Roy could see that the ends of his hair were already trying to dry as they were kept out of the rain for once that day. He was glad that something seemed to be drying on the kid. The Major was looking less like a wet dog by the second, though the unbearable pout still was there.

"Yeah," Roy breathed as he handed it up to his subordinate, who took it to read the label. Roy placed his hands on the ground to push himself up, but his back screamed relentlessly at the motion and made him severely doubt he could stand up. He really needed to see a chiropractor.

"God, you're ancient," Edward huffed as he held out his hand for him. Roy grimaced as he took it and was easily pulled to his feet by his subordinate. He made it up and stretched his back once more, a groan escaping his throat as he twisted back and forth. The light dimmed and left only a dull glow, but it was still present and threatened to make a bonfire of his back once more. "Seriously, why don't you see someone about that?" Edward asked as he handed the bottle back to him. Roy shrugged not really knowing the answer himself.

"This is the only bottle," Roy muttered, hoping to take the conversation away from his own ailments. He shook the bottle gently and listened to the pills rattle around on the inside over the roar of rain on the roof top.

Edward's eyes widened for a moment as he realized their predicament. His golden eyes darted down to the floor as his shoulders sank beneath his soaked coat. Roy imagined the light around his ports to glow a little brighter with the realization but if they did, Edward made no sign to show his discomfort. After weighing his options, the kid straightened himself out and rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh.

"You take it, bastard, or Lieutenant Hawkeye will chew you out otherwise," he told him.

"She'll find something else to complain about." Roy smirked lightheartedly as he tossed the pills back to his subordinate. "I'll pick some up on the way home after work. Until then, I'll just sneak some more of Hawkeye's when she isn't looking."

Edward glared at him and shoved the bottle back in his hand. "Hey, I'm not the one who can't even bend over to tie his fucking shoe. You'd think that with Illumination crap people wouldn't be so oblivious to their own pain, but apparently you're an even bigger idiot than I imagined," Edward scolded him, throwing his hands in the air in disbelief. Water droplets sprayed from the sleeves of his coat. "God, you're an idiot. Take it. Alphonse went to the grocery store today, maybe he picked something up. If not, I'm just gonna crash when I get back anyway."

Roy raised his eyebrow curiously as he looked his soaking wet subordinate over. "Are you sure?" he challenged him. The kid faltered slightly, taken back by his question. Golden eyes looked up into his as if he was in search of actual concern, not just the mocking tone Roy normally used. Edward found what he was looking for and looked down for a moment to absorb it.

"Yeah," he replied weakly. It took a moment for the kid to put the usual taunting smirk back on his face, but it was soon there, ready with another witty jab. "Yeah, I'm not old like you. I can still touch my toes without breaking myself."

"Maybe it's because you're already so close to them," Roy muttered, though not quietly enough.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Edward screeched.

….

Roy bought the bottle of pain relievers after getting a scolding from the shop owner for his subordinate's obscene language. Apparently it was a family place, but the lack of customers told him otherwise.

He snagged a newspaper as he waited by the door for a few moments as Edward browsed the dime a dozen book cart by the window for something interesting to read. There were only cheap romance novels and biographies about people no one cared about, so if he was trying to find something to aid in his alchemic research for the Philosopher's Stone, he wasn't going to get far looking in the corner store. Roy made a note to dig into more cases concerning the kid's real mission. He was trying all he could to even catch a few rumors about the Stone, but he was coming up as blank as the kid was. Dead end after dead end.

Roy shook his head and tried to settle himself into the news column in front of him. He didn't get more than a couple sentences into it before he felt a none too gentle kick to his shin. He glared over his newspaper at Ed, who was staring with equal intensity back at him. He held a cheap romance novel in his hand, one that Roy would never admit he'd actually read. Back in Ishval, you grabbed onto anything you could for entertainment. For only two days his had dwelled in the poorly written, overly sappy romance by a nameless author. Roy was amazed that the book was still selling with how bad it was.

"For Alphonse?" Roy asked. He didn't question if it was for Edward's own pleasure or not, because he knew that the kid would do his best to deny it entirely.

He let out a gruff snort and tucked the tiny book into his soaking wet coat to—ironically—keep it dry. "Yeah. He needs something to do when he can't sleep," Edward muttered. Roy sighed as he reached into his subordinate's pocket and pulled it back out, much to his annoyance.

"You aren't going to keep it dry like that, and your brother shouldn't have to read alphabet soup tonight," Roy scolded him as he dropped the book into the thin plastic bag the clerk had given him for his purchase. He folded it up and around the book and then stuffed it back into the pocket of the gaudy red coat. Edward shoved him off and straightened his coat out roughly. He muttered a grudging thanks, and Roy knew that was all he was going to get from him.

They headed back outside into the storm and made the trek back to the Command Center. Roy used his newly bought newspaper as a makeshift umbrella, and Edward kept as dry as he could under the hat he was borrowing. They walked passed the sweet shop to see the child with a head cold get scolded for being out in the rain by his now-arrived mother, whose belly was glowing with another child on the way. The taxi cab had moved onto other, dryer destinations and its customer had taken shelter, probably in one of the many buildings on the street. Roy sighed as he felt the rain drip down his neck through his exposed collar. If he had his hat on he'd be dry.

They kept light conversation about the office, mostly about their concern for Havoc's smoking problem.

"Don't you ever buy him cigarettes, Fullmetal," Roy warned him.

Edward just scoffed. "I'm not of age remember? Anyway, I might as well start digging his grave for him if I did."

They parted ways once they reached the Command Center. Roy still had a few hours of work to do until he could be free of his office chair for the day. His back ached just thinking of sitting in it. Edward, on the other hand, had had a long mission in Optain trying to control the flood, and he was heading back to his barracks for some well deserved rest. He was exhausted and drained from that mission, if the bags under his eyes told him anything. Roy remembered the verbal report the kid had given him, and he wouldn't want to hold him up anymore. The kid deserved his sleep.

After they exchanged some sharp quips with each other, Edward turned and left for his own lodgings. Roy watched the light from his automail ports fade like a lantern into the haze of the storm as he disappeared down the street. He sighed as he turned back towards the entrance to the Command Center and started walking back towards his dreaded office. A kid like that shouldn't be in that much pain.

When Roy made it back to his unit, Hawkeye was already waiting for him at his desk. He saw that the papers on it had doubled since he had left, and just seeing it felt like the woman had chained him to his desk for life. Roy groaned as he passed her and slipped off his coat, giving it a heavy flick to shake the water off in his subordinate's direction before dropping it on the back of his chair. Hawkeye was not amused as she wiped of the water droplets from her brow. He smirked at her lightheartedly.

"Did you get the pain medication from the store, sir?" she asked him.

Roy slowly sat back in his chair, groaning as his back eased into it. He was not liking being back to hunching over his desk. The light sparked and sputtered in his protest and he assumed that the Lieutenant had gotten her answer, but she always wanted a verbal account.

"No. Unfortunately, the store had run out."


	2. Chapter Two

**_Glow_ **

Chapter Two 

The Colonel was an idiot, Edward thought, trudging back to the barracks through the storm. His boots squelched underneath his weight and spewed out water like a sponge, absorbing more when he picked them up. With the days in New Optain spent trying to beat back the rising waters of the flood, Edward had almost expected himself to get trench foot with the amount of water he was carrying around. He felt like he was wearing a coat made of lead, because the fabric had practically soaked up an ocean. However, even with as much water as he had brought back with him, New Optain wasn't any dryer or safer when he left than when he got there.

Edward shivered as he remembered the image of the lights strung through the town. People were getting swept away in the flood, batted around like they were old rag dolls that a child didn't want anymore. People's bodies burned with fiery pain in more ways than Edward believed possible. He had tried his best to prevent any more lanterns from glowing, but the water kept coming and the walls weren't holding no matter how strong they were or how many he made. Even with being one of the most renowned State Alchemists in Amestris, he couldn't save a few people from the power of nature. He had the misfortune of seeing six people slip through his hands and die that day. The light that came from them was haunting.

The station master was someone that Edward had seen on occasion during his travels through the Optain station. He was a good man, a little round in the stomach, with a laughable red mustache. Even though his face was ridden with a bad case of rosacea that lit up like a speckle of stars in the sky, he was always in a cheery mood. Edward always thought he seemed truly happy, which in turn made a smile spread on his own face even just in passing. However, now Edward couldn't remember the smiling face of the station master. He could only remember the huge wave that broke through the higher end of one of his earthen walls and swept him away. He could see the glowing speckles of his face in the eerie depths of the water. First it was his lungs, then his head, his heart, and finally his entire body ignited in a blinding white light that would make someone even on the darkest of days want to put on sunglasses. The candle of his pain glowed as the river swept him away and drowned him until it was all but snuffed out. People tried to catch him, but the current was fast and the walls were falling. They had to let him go. After securing the town as best as he could, Edward had to trek nearly ten miles downstream with the 698th to retrieve the station master. His body held no more light and not even a smile. Everything he had been was gone.

The farmers went more quickly. The wave had taken off the crumbling roof of one of the nearby cottages and it collapsed over top of them. The light was so bright with the three of them together that it looked like a star exploded right next to them. It lasted only a minute before disappearing into a black hole. They died instantly.

Edward had originally thought that the Illumination was good. He was younger then, only eleven years of age rather than fifteen, and had still thought that any pain could be overcome with enough determination and will. It started on the third of October, 1910, the day they had performed the human transmutation. Edward wasn't conscious then, but Alphonse was and he had been terrified. The entire town was lighting up with their own various ailments. It was on the radio, it was everywhere and growing bigger all while Edward slept through his own pain. Apparently his stumps were glowing like two suns while he was out, because Granny Pinako and Winry to that day wouldn't stop talking about how they needed to wear their solar eclipse screens just to operate on him. They were nearly blinded by the Illumination. However, with all of the medication that Edward was put on during his recover, he could barely remember his first reaction to the phenomenon. It was all a blur until a few days later when he had fully come to his senses and everyone was able to explain in as much detail as they understood what the Illumination was. Apparently when Edward had first reached the shaky line of consciousness, he originally thought it was the Gate still trying to take parts of his body away from him. He tried fighting it and was terrified of it. They had to restrain him to his bed.

Because of his encounter with the Gate, Edward would forever hate the vastness of the color white which had in turn made him anxious in hospitals. They were white and only white. The Illumination was too, which was probably why his initial reaction to it wasn't welcoming. Alphonse still told him the story of him discovering the Illumination whenever he wanted a laugh or to tease him that he was scared of a little harmless light.

As a few days passed, and the glow of his stumps faded ever so slightly, Edward had gotten a better attitude about the Illumination: he often saw Winry come into the house with glowing scrapes and cuts where she fell on her way to school. They obviously stung and hurt her, but as the days went by she healed and the light faded. It had given him hope that this Illumination was meant to be overcome. He had hoped that all pain was temporary, something that could be healed or cured. The Illumination would extinguish when they finally made it through.

That was the biggest lie that Edward had ever told himself.

Pain was always there in one form or another; it never went away. People were walking around with scraped knees or terminal diseases. Pain couldn't just be cured with determination—it would keep coming back over and over again. The only time the Illumination would stop attacking you would be when you were dead. The six people in Optain were some of the few to experience that. However, other than keeping you up at night with the constant glowing, the Illumination was harmless. No one knew how it started or how it happened, but so far scientists had found that the phenomenon had no effect on human health aside from making you aware of it. One would think that with people being aware of their own pain, there would be more trying to stop it, but the light still continued, and everyone was hurting just the same as before.

Edward looked down at his shoulder through the pouring rain. The port's glow was visible even through his soaked jacket. It ached with the storm like it usually did, but it was nothing he wasn't used to. It was just a pain in the ass, and the idiot Colonel wasn't helping. Edward lifted his brow and glanced at the thick black rain hat on top of his head. It was large on him and fell too far over his forehead, but it kept the rain out of his eyes as he trudged down the street. While it provided him minimal protection in the storm, the Colonel was getting himself drenched in the rain just because he decided to give away his stupid rain cap. Edward was already soaking wet, it didn't matter what little cover the cap gave him—he wasn't getting any dryer. Now it was just another thing he had to return to the office for.

Edward sighed as he reached the overhanging roof of the barracks' entrance way. It was sweet relief from the pounding rain drops. His expression eased into a smile as he imagined the nice warm room that undoubtedly awaited him upstairs. He pictured the hot fire going in the small stove and a nice bundle of blankets on his bed to keep him warm. He planned on cocooning himself in layers of blankets and hibernating till the next morning. The Colonel wouldn't call him into the office the next day because he had claimed the day off to recuperate from the mission to Optain.

Unfortunately, it seemed the closer he got to his apartment, the closer he was to collapse. It took all of Edward's energy just to open the door to the barracks building, let alone climb the stairs to the third floor. He was hunched over the railing the whole way up, pulling himself along to prevent his legs from just giving out on him. On the second floor landing, he had to stop for a spell as his leg protested against him and the ghostly light of his phantom limb returned. Knives. He hissed, feeling as if the invisible blades were stuck into him, and bent over to massage out the pain. It was the only thing that helped ease the hurt of his stumps aside from pain relievers. Granny Pinako would often sit on the couch with him for hours just massaging his residual limbs when he had first experienced the phantom limb pain. It was more frequent then, and would sometimes go on for minutes at a time without relief. Now he only really felt the odd sensation when the weather got bad and the barometer dropped. This was the worst it had been in ages.

Once Edward had pulled all the invisible swords out of his nonexistent calf, he trudged the rest of the way up the stairs, ignoring the puddles of water he left behind him. He really shouldn't have let the Colonel keep those pain killers.

It took Edward a little while to take his apartment keys out of his pocket and force his cold hands to unlock the door. Said door was old, rusted, and painted an ugly faded green, which made it a pain in the ass to open and an eyesore to anyone who walked by. However, it wasn't like the rest of the folks in the barracks were living in luxury either; the hallways were lit with the cheapest fluorescent bulbs that the army could buy, and were blown out more often than they were replaced; the laundry facilities were on the first floor, and it was expensive as hell to wash a single load. What they weren't paying in rent was fed to the machines in sacrificial offerings of quarters and dimes. He would often hear Alphonse rant and rave about only being short by twenty-five cenz for a load.

Because of the outrageous prices and the fact that half the dryers were in disrepair, Alphonse had taken to drying Edward's clothes in their bathroom on a makeshift line. It made them outrageously stiff since there was no breeze to loosen the drying fabric, but it was better than paying five hundred cenz to put them in the machine.

Though the subpar living conditions of the barracks were aggravating to some, the people there were as nice as they could be. Edward would often spend time with some of the other soldiers playing billiards in the rec room, even though half the balls were missing, and gambling for cheap vending machine snacks in a game of cards. Cash was too valuable to bet with because it had to be sacrificed to the laundry machines.

His neighbors would give him the occasional leftover dinners of meat loaf and macaroni and cheese, and Alphonse would give them soup and pastries when they got sick or had a long day. Overall, it was a decent place to be, and Edward didn't mind that he had to kick the door a few times to get the rusty hinges into gear.

The instant the door opened, Edward was blasted with the warmth of what smelled like a bakery escaping from their tiny, ratty kitchenette. The heat of the oven slapped him so hard that there was nothing he could do to stop the blissful moan from escaping his lips. Edward let his stiff and shivering shoulders finally relax as the room's warmth melted the iciness from his limbs. He floated into the room and threw his keys into a dish on the table beside the door and the Colonel's hat was thrown across the room to be forgotten for another day. Edward peeled off his wet coat with a bit of effort, letting the warm air of the room reach his shivering chest.

"Alphonse, I'm home," Edward called into the small apartment as he jerked the door shut, dropping his coat on the hook behind it. His boots were kicked off haphazardly and placed by the barrack's water boiler. They'd had the misfortune of being assigned the room with the boiler in it; apparently a portion of their apartment was supposed to be a utility closet, but the military needed more rooms to put soldiers in, so they transformed it into a dorm. Their living room was already stuffed with the couch and the old fire stove in it, and the boiler made it even more crowded. However, it provided yet another source of heat that Edward was rather grateful for on cold or rainy days.

A sound of acknowledgment came from their small kitchenette, and Edward shuffled his soaking wet socks across the surprisingly clean carpet of their dorm. He poked his head into the small kitchen to see his brother's giant suit of armor huddled over the oven with several baking trays in his hand. The large apron he wore was covered in cake batter, and a dusting of white flour seemed to have reached every crevice of his armor. Pies, cakes, tarts, and other pastries lined the table, counters, shelves, chairs, and any other available surface that they could. It looked like they were opening a bakery without Edward's knowledge.

However, where most people's sweet tooth would be delighted to see this many baked goods in their kitchen, an obvious frown slid its way onto Edward's face.

His brother loved to cook and bake, but one thing he was famous for was his stress baking; he would make every single dish in his one recipe book three times over when he got especially down. One time Edward remembered that he baked so many things that he set the oven ablaze, and the fire team had to come in and lock down the building. The flames didn't leave the kitchen, but the barracks smelt of burnt chocolate bundt cake for weeks. After his baking episodes, Edward would often help Alphonse take some of the goods down to the food pantry and hand the rest out among their neighbors and friends. It would put smiles on all their faces, which was what Edward assumed helped ease Alphonse's worries rather than the actual baking.

One thing many of the people who knew their secret thought was that his brother couldn't feel pain, and therefore couldn't be affected by the Illumination—Mustang's unit was one of the biggest offenders—but only Edward knew that wasn't so; his brother was affected by the Illumination just as much as the rest of them, and the glow of his pain was as bright as anyone else's. Though his body couldn't feel physical pain, he could still feel emotional distress—but while most people could sleep off their worries with a good night's rest, his brother didn't have that luxury. Every single little thing built up on him like bricks until he either had to sit down and sort it out or keep moving to forget. He was stressed and worried, which took something out of him when no one was looking. Because of this, it took a certain sense to see what troubled him; Edward could see the smoky white cloud that encased his brother's armor like a light fog. On occasion, he would have thought it was just his eyes playing tricks on him, but after studying it for a few seconds he knew it was there and very real. The Illumination hung around his brother and followed him like a drifting ghost. Though it seemed to float along with him, it was heavy like lead, weighing down his heavy metal shoulders, making him hunch his back just to hold it up.

What had his brother upset that evening was their trip to New Optain; he had fully expected to help the people over there. He had hope that they would be able to stop the swelling river—they had performed many miracles already since Edward had joined the military. It was only with Alphonse's help that he had gotten the title 'Hero of the People'. However, sometimes the hero can't save everyone; because of his blood seal, Edward had ordered Alphonse to stay away from the river. He couldn't risk him falling in and getting his blood seal washed off just for a flood. His little brother was angry with him, but obeyed and kept to the shallows, helping people as he could.

Unfortunately, he couldn't help everyone; he managed to pull many people off floating roof tops and rubble when he could withstand the water's current enough to help them, but he was slow and the water was fast. When he carried a few people to safety, he would return to find the rest of them gone with the flood, their lanterns permanently snuffed out. He was taking the trip hard. For his brother's sake, he wished he could have just stayed home—but Edward knew that without Alphonse helping him, even more villagers would be dead.

Now his brother was furiously baking to forget the haunting lights that floated through the town of New Optain. Edward wondered if it was working.

"Brother, you're soaked," Alphonse stated as he rubbed his flour coated hands on his apron.

Edward laughed weakly as he looked down at himself to take in the full picture; his wet socks was squeezing out puddles while his hair and shirt dripped onto the tile floor of the kitchen. "Yeah, I would expect water to do that to someone." Edward smirked at him. He walked farther into the kitchen right up to where his brother was hovered over the oven. He pulled Al away from the hot pans resting on the stove and looked his metal body over.

Flour was crammed in the oddest places on his body, and it looked more like glue than a powdered mess. He hadn't dried himself when he got back to the barracks—he must have gone straight to baking without question.

His brother was more distressed than he had originally thought, and because of it his armor was going to be hell to clean.

"You don't look too spiffy yourself, little brother." He smiled up at him empathetically.

The metal suit shifted around anxiously, and Edward soon saw his brother's head bow in shame. The mission was weighing on him and it was apparent to him now that Alphonse's baking only managed to set aside his worries for a later date. That time was now.

Edward lifted himself up on his toes and reached up to set his hand on his brother's head.

Alphonse nearly crumbled beneath the touch that he couldn't feel. He had been acting strong all day, trying to pretend it was normal to bake a hundred different pies, but Edward knew that it was time to let it out. The worries of the day were wearing down on him, and it was obvious he couldn't hold them anymore. Though Alphonse couldn't physically cry, Edward knew more than anyone that he tried. Edward smiled gently at his brother's trembling armor as he patted his head, telling him it was alright.

"I-I… I couldn't help them," Al cried weakly, his voice shaky, though his helmet betrayed nothing of what he was feeling.

Edward just nodded. He understood why his brother was upset, and Alphonse knew what he would have said in response: "It wasn't your fault. You did what you could." Having this unspoken exchange, Edward grabbed his brother's Illuminated leather hands and held them reassuringly.

"Come on," he mumbled softly, "let's both get cleaned up." Edward leaned over and turned off the oven, not caring if there was a pie or tray of cookies still inside. Alphonse seemed to gather himself a bit and straightened out to his full height, his helmet almost touching the ceiling.

Edward took the dirty apron from him and tossed it on the kitchen chair by the table. He led his brother into the living room and motioned for him to sit down on the dirty couch. It cried under his weight, and its already sunken cushions were shoved even farther down into its frame. Alphonse brought his large flour covered knees closer to his chest and hugged them silently as Edward told him he was going to go get the scrub brush. He saw the glowing cloud that surrounded his brother flicker slightly and dim. He knew his brother would be alright—he just needed some time. And to bake a few dozen chocolate chip cookies.

Edward gave his brother one last gentle smile before he strode to the tiny bathroom they owned and grabbed the small bucket from under the sink. Hot water blasted out of the spigot and the steam wafted up into Edward's face. He inhaled deeply and let out a tired sigh as he felt exhaustion flood over him.

All day he had been running through the storm just to get to his warm bed and sleep off the day. Unfortunately, it looked like it was going to be another long night.

Edward peeled off his wet socks and stood up on his toes to pin them to the clothesline that was strung around the cramped bathroom. It laced the walls and zig-zagged from the edge of the shower, over the toilet, past the sink and mirror then back again. It was like a maze of drying clothes. If Edward was five again he would call it his castle. He and Alphonse used to rule the clotheslines back in Resembool when their mother would hang the sheets out to dry. It was like its own magical land back then. Now it was just chores. He sighed as he looked down and wiggled his paled toes, which were now exposed against the cool white-tiled floor, before turning off the water and grabbing the scrub brush. It was a relief to get some of his wet clothing off.

Alphonse was silent when Edward returned. The roar of the rain outside was all but muted by the clanking of the water boiler and the clacks of his brother's joints, as he was already working on the straps of his armor. He had his shoulder spikes removed, as well as his chest plate. He knew the drill.

Edward plopped himself down on the carpet in front of him and pulled his white powdered chest plate closer so that he could wash it down. Alphonse took the washcloth that Edward had dropped in the bucket and began to get the clots of wet flour out of his joints. They worked in silence with only the occasional loud clatter of the boiler to jar them from their work. Edward glanced back at the darn thing and shook his head in disbelief. Why did they have to get this room out of all of them?

"So, who are you baking for?" Edward asked the armor quietly. He knew full well that when Alphonse baked, he had no one in mind except for the thoughts he wanted to get out of it. However, asking him gave his brother a chance to decide who he wanted to give the pastries to the next morning so they could plan their day to deliver them.

"I was thinking about taking them to the children's home. Maybe the kids could take them to school with them," Alphonse mumbled softly. Edward nodded his head acceptingly.

"They'll like that for sure. I bet they don't get a lot of home baked pies there," he noted as he dipped the brush back into the water. Both of them listened to the sloshing of the water before returning to what they were doing.

"What did you do today?" Alphonse questioned, picking up the choppy conversation. "It took a little longer than usual for you to return home."

"After I turned in the reports from Optain to the Colonel, we headed to the corner store. I thought I would pick up some aspirin when I was out, but they only had one bottle. The bastard took it for his back pain. He's getting old. I keep telling him that, but he doesn't listen. You would think that the idiot would see someone about that," Edward told him.

Hearing this, Alphonse sat up on the couch a little straighter, his soul fire eyes lit with concern.

"Brother, are you hurting again? I should have realized with the rain. I forgot to pick some painkillers up when I was out—"

"It's nothing I haven't felt before, Al," Edward brushed off, not really wanting to think about it. The more he thought about the glow in his ports, the more he felt the pain. If he didn't think about it, he didn't feel it.

Silence consumed air again, and Edward slowly made his way to shining up his brother's metal body. As the clock ticked slowly by, he worked his way from the chest plate to his shoulders, his thighs and then his back. Soon Alphonse was sparkling like new. The light that reflected from the table side lamp off his armor was so blindingly bright that Edward had to remind himself that it wasn't Alphonse's Illumination; the cloud that had encased his brother's armor was now just a mist, barely noticeable to the human eye. A breath of air could have whisked it away into oblivion if Edward tried hard enough.

After he helped clip his brother's armor back together, he flung the dampened towel over his shoulder and picked up the bucket of water.

"Hey, you gonna be okay?" Edward asked him gently, setting a hand on his brother's helmet. Alphonse looked up at him and then down again, nodding his head. "I got you a book," Edward said, urging the conversation forward, "I picked it up at the store. I know you finished your last one a few nights ago. I thought you might want another one." His brother seemed to light up at that, and the cloud around him completely dispersed.

"You did?" Alphonse asked quietly, though the whisper didn't hide his excitement.

Edward nodded and motioned back to the door where his coat was hanging, dripping buckets of water on the floor.

"Yeah, it's in my coat if you want it. It isn't wrapped or anything," he started to say, but in an instant he was scooped up in metal arms for a rather uncomfortable hug. Alphonse's hugs felt like you were pinned between two cars with nowhere to go. Though they set you through a meat grinder and left you with a few burning spots of light afterwards, Edward still enjoyed them. He hugged his brother back, silently telling him that it would be alright, before taking a step back. Alphonse looked about to thank him, but then paused as he studied him. Edward felt his red eyes glide over him from his sopping wet hair to his brightly burning ports. He tried covering up the light on his shoulder, not wanting to send his brother back into worry, but it was too bright for his pitiful attempt to mask it.

"I know we don't have any pain medication, but Ed, why don't you go take a hot shower? That usually helps," Alphonse told him.

Edward groaned in retort like a whiny child. "I'm trying to get dry! I spent all day in the rain. You would expect a shower to be counterproductive."

"If you get sick I am not taking care of you. A shower would warm you up."

"One of those cookies will warm me up."

"You can have one after you shower."

"But Al!"

"Ed, take a shower!" his little brother ordered him.

Edward crossed his arms grumpily, feeling a shiver run up his spine as his wet shirt wrapped around him. It stuck to his skin, and even in the warm dorm made him colder. He actually could imagine a hot steamy shower. Just thinking about it made him want to race to the bathroom and get in. With Alphonse being not able to take showers, Edward never had to worry about running out of warm water; he was able to burn himself beneath the faucet to his heart's content. He knew his brother was right about a hot shower making him feel better, especially after the day he'd had, but he wouldn't give in that easily.

"Two cookies and a piece of blueberry pie and I will take a shower," he bartered.

His little brother rolled his eyes in disbelief, but nodded. Anything to get him clean.

Edward pumped his fist in the air in victory, knowing he won the battle. He picked up the bucket and brush, and with one last look at his brother to make sure he was okay, headed back to the bathroom.

He was amazed at how fast he stripped and hopped in the tub. He dropped his drenched clothes on the floor and kicked them to the door haphazardly. They would need to be dropped into the wash the next morning. There was no way he was going to do it tonight.

It was only a few minutes before he felt the hot water run over his head and bathe him in its warm grasp. He shuddered as his muscles relaxed beneath the heat. His eyes traced the wisps of steam as they rose off his skin and over the curtain of the shower. He knew that the mirror would slowly fog up and the entire bathroom would soon be filled with a hazy mist. Grinning tiredly at the thought of turning their dorm into a sauna, Edward began to run shampoo through his already wet hair.

As he cleaned himself, the light around his ports flickered a bit under the warm of the water and the soft massage the washcloth gave them. He was happy to see them dim slightly, but knew better than to expect them to go out all the way. He'd had those rings of light around his stumps ever since their transmutation. They never left him, even on his best days—they just dimmed or brightened depending on how much pain he was in. They were a part of him now. However, Alphonse knew him better than anyone; a hot shower made it feel like they weren't there at all.

As Edward rinsed the soap out of his hair, he heard a knock on the door. He poked his head out of the curtain and saw his brother open the door—only a crack so as to not display his indecency to the world.

"Brother, I thought you said the store ran out of pain medication."

Edward raised his eyebrow in confusion, wondering why his brother was questioning him about that.

"Yeah, it did. There was only one left. Mustang took it. I told you already—" he started to explain, but was cut off as his brother's gloved hand lifted a familiar tiny white bottle in his grasp. He shook it lightly, and Edward could hear the little pills tinkle around against the unopened seal on the inside.

Edward's eyes widened in shock as he stared at it before his surprise grew into sudden rage. "That bastard! That fucking no good Colonel, always trying to get his damn way with everything!"

He shouted loud enough that he was sure his neighbors beside, above, and below could all hear him clearly. The walls were very thin, and Edward knew exactly what went on at night in his neighbors dorms.

He heard fists pound the walls and voices telling him to shut up, but Edward blindly cursed them back in his anger. He slammed his hand down on the faucet and turned the water off, exposing his skin to the rapidly cooling air. Goosebumps quickly speckled his skin as he flung the curtain open and stumbled out of the shower while he grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist. Almost slipping as his wet automail met tile, Edward staggered over to his brother and snatched the bottle of pills out of his hand, turning it over to read the label.

"Where did you find these?" he growled, shoving the bottle in his brother's face.

Alphonse pushed his hand away from his helmet.

Edward pushed past his brother's armor and into the living room before he could get a proper answer. Soap dripped down his face, nearly missing his eyes, as he didn't rinse well enough in his rush to get out. He wiped his face with his burning hot automail hand before storming over to the phone.

"They were in the bag the book was in—maybe it was an accident," Alphonse offered as Edward picked up the phone book and tore through the its pages. He found the ten-digit number he needed and jammed his finger into the rotary. He dialed the number, getting extremely impatient with how slow the wheel returned back to the starting point.

"It was no accident. That bastard had no intention of keeping it. I told him over and over again that he was going to break his back one of these days, but he wouldn't listen!" Edward muttered as he cursed the Colonel's existence. "First he gives me his hat for no fucking reason and now he buys me pain medicine that he needed!"

"What are you going to do?" Alphonse asked, seeming afraid of his impulsive actions. That was one thing that was the same between the two of them—they were both passionately impulsive. Alphonse just made wiser decisions in his mania than Edward did.

He saw his younger brother try to take the phone from him, but Edward pointed his finger warningly in his direction, making him halt in place. "I am giving that bastard exactly what he fucking deserves," he scolded him just as the other end of the line picked up.

_"Central Chiropractic, how may I—"_

"Yeah, this is Edward Elric. I need to schedule an appointment for the biggest pain in the ass I know."


	3. Chapter Three

**_Glow_ **

Chapter 3

 

Alphonse pulled a little red wagon along behind him as he made his calm morning walk to Central Command.

He had left the barracks early that morning, before the sun cleared the horizon. Edward was still fast asleep in his small bed, his snores and the dim glow from his nasal cavity signaling an oncoming head cold.

His brother had been out in the rain for too long over the past few days, and Alphonse knew he wouldn't wake up on the right side of the bed that morning because of it. So, Alphonse decided to give his brother his rest and run his few errands for him, leaving a small note for him to wake to. He made sure to put extra fuel in the wood stove to keep their apartment warm and recovered Colonel Mustang's rain cap from behind the couch where his brother carelessly tossed it the night before.

It was slightly creased from its rough use, but Alphonse straightened it out and placed it in the wagon to take with him on his trip to the Command Center. He planned on returning it along with the pain medicine the Colonel had sneaked into Edward's coat. His brother refused to keep the medicine the Colonel had given him because he was still angry at the man for tricking him like that. However, though he was stubborn, he was smart enough to take a few the previous night to make it through the storm. The bottle was now a few pills lighter than when they got it, but Alphonse was sure the Colonel wouldn't mind.

The red wagon that Alphonse was pulling splashed through puddles on the sidewalk that were left over from the storm. Its front left wheel was loose and squeaked beneath the weight of eleven pies—five blueberry, six strawberry—a couple apple tarts, and ten dozen cookies of many varieties, all stacked on thin metal racks for transport. Alphonse was planning on delivering them to the children's home after his stop by the Command Center, though he highly doubted all of the goodies would make it that far—soldiers loved their sweets.

Though the wagon came in handy for carrying things, he guessed that he might have looked strange pulling it since he was no longer six years old and also held the appearance of a seven foot tall suit of armor. However, he didn't care if he got more strange looks than normal because of it, Alphonse couldn't rid himself of the wagon. He had bought it within a few days of their big move to the military barracks after Edwards enlistment as a State Alchemist. They didn't have a car to carry heavy things long distances because neither he nor Ed were old enough to drive. Alphonse didn't even know how if he wanted to try.

When they first moved into the barracks, they'd bought a bunch of dishes, silverware, and cooking supplies from the local store, but had no way to take it back to their apartment from there. Alphonse purchased the red wagon on the spot and used it to haul their dishes back. Though he bought it out of a moment's necessity, he hadn't had the heart to get rid of it; it reminded him of the little red wagon that he had back in Resembool when he was little. His mother used to pull him up the hill with it, and once after he had broken his leg on their tire swing, Edward pulled him the few miles to school in it every day so he wouldn't wear himself out on his crutches.

That wagon was gone now, burned with their house—but his new wagon was still with him even after a few good years of hard work. Other than hauling the occasional random large object, Alphonse used the little red wagon to carry his groceries from the store and deliver his baked goods around the city. He sometimes had the joy of pulling their neighbor's daughter around in it when she wanted to play with him.

He had left the barracks early that morning before the sun cleared the horizon. Edward was still fast asleep in his small bed, his snores and the dim glow from his nasal cavity signaling an oncoming head cold. His brother had been out in the rain too long and too often over the last few days, and Alphonse knew he wouldn't wake up on the right side of the bed that morning. So, Alphonse decided to give his brother his rest and run his few errands for him.

He took a few trips up and down the stairs of the barracks to fill his wagon with his pastries and then left a note for his brother to wake to. He made sure to put extra fuel in the wood stove to keep their apartment warm and to recover Colonel Mustang's rain cap from behind the couch where his brother had carelessly tossed it. It was slightly creased from its rough use, but Alphonse easily straightened it out. He put it in the wagon to take with him to the Command Center. He planned on returning it and the pain medicine before he made his trip downtown to the children's home to drop off the pastries. Edward refused to keep the medicine the Colonel gave him because he was still angry at him for slipping it into his pocket. However, though he was stubborn, he was smart enough to take a few the previous night to make it through the storm. The bottle was now a few pills lighter than before, but Alphonse was sure the Colonel wouldn't mind.

There was a loud splash as he stepped in one of the deeper puddles. Waves rippled out from beneath him and Alphonse carefully lifted his foot out of the miniature lake and maneuvered his wagon around it to prevent the pastries from getting wet.

The rain had lasted a few long and terrible days and had caused a lot of trouble in the countryside villages that lay near the rivers. With everything that the military had to do to ensure that the flood damage was kept to a minimum, Alphonse was glad that the only traces left were a few puddles. However, as glad as he was, he still knew that people were struggling through the mud to salvage their lives miles away. In Optain, houses were destroyed, families were torn apart, and people had perished in the roaring waters of the bloated river. The worse part was that Alphonse could do nothing to stop it—he guessed that was the power of nature. Even with the smartest minds or the strongest of bodies, humans were never meant to tame it. It was always like that, Alphonse assumed. A steadfast source of terror and disaster, yet a constant flow of life and wonder thrived beneath the murky waters of mother nature. It really fascinated him that even though the earth was ages upon ages old, it was still creating new things to amaze the mind and startle the senses. For example, the Illumination.

Edward told him that the Illumination affected him too, but Alphonse, along with everyone else, couldn't see it. He couldn't feel pain, so there was no reason for his body to glow, but Edward insisted that he saw him light up every now and then. He assumed his brother was just crazy, but he always seemed to know when he was feeling down. Aside from the obvious sign of his stress baking, Edward always stayed by his side until he knew that he was going to be alright and not a second shorter. Alphonse was amazed at his intuition, but he guessed that was just what being a good older brother was about.

Though his armor wasn't affected by the Illumination, he thought it to be quite useful. It showed people's pain, their illness, their problems. It could tell you that you were sick before your body even knew it. He often took advantage of it to keep his brother from running himself into the ground. Even though the strain he put on his body was obvious now with the glowing lights, he was still oblivious to it. However, it seemed that everyone who was affected by the Illumination had a negative opinion towards it. They hated the glow because it kept them up at night. They didn't like having to look at someone's inflamed kidneys through their jacket. They didn't like people knowing exactly what was wrong with them.

Alphonse didn't know what the Illumination felt like. Maybe it had an odd itch or warmth that made everyone so grumpy towards its presence. He didn't know. But one would think that with such a power, someone would try to use it to make someone better. A lot of Alphonse's friends had lost faith in the idea that the Illumination could bring aid to those that need it. They watched as people glowed with the same wounds and aches they woke up with and went to bed without relief. It was just a light that showed pain, it didn't mean anyone was obligated to help. Alphonse, however, still had hope. Even though the Illumination didn't affect him, he had hope that the glowing pains would dim and people would live just a little happier with each other. All it might take was time and a few blueberry pies.

Alphonse rolled his wagon down the street, waving occasionally at passersby who were out on their morning walks after a few long days inside. Only a small amount of them smiled back at him genuinely. The majority of the people on the street raised their eyebrows at his giant suit of armor or made baffled faces. Alphonse didn't mind, though, because he understood that he must look odd. He waved to them anyway and continued on his way. As Alphonse approached the gate to the Command Center, the number of soldiers increased while the number of civilians decreased. They each bore their own lights, from aching knees to jarred backs caused by the long hours on their feet or at their desks. It was always more of one than the other.

Alphonse tried his best to push through the morning rush, but his wagon was a little hard to maneuver, especially when everyone was hopping around to avoid wetting their boots in the puddles. He only stopped fighting the crowd when he heard the familiar voice of Master Sergeant Fuery calling for him. Alphonse looked over his shoulder to where he thought the man was, but found only the odd blur of random privates' faces.

"Down here," he heard Fuery squeak, and Alphonse's eyes darted down to the wet sidewalk to see him sitting on the dark cement, resting against the bars of the Command Center's gate. He seemed in no rush to get anywhere, even though morning formation was in only a few minutes and he couldn't be late to that. It was then that he caught sight of the burning light coming from the man's foot, which had shed its black military boots in exchange for a large and bulky leg brace. It shone so bright that Alphonse could make out the broken bone and inflamed tissue that were causing the man's pain. Cheap crutches were propped against the gate behind the Sergeant, worn and obviously used by prior patients.

"What happened?" Alphonse exclaimed in shock as he dropped the handle to his wagon and stooped down to the Sergeant's side. The young man chuckled as if it was a rather funny story how he got his leg mangled. Alphonse didn't think anything like that would be particularly hilarious, but he didn't want to tell the Master Sergeant that in case he spoiled his mood.

The man wiped the lenses of his glasses clean on the soft fabric of his white undershirt and pushed them back up his nose so the top of them brushed the brim of his patrol cap. "Yesterday evening I was helping some lower enlisted soldiers install radios in the vehicles in the lot and one of the privates managed to drive one of them over my foot. That is why you always check the parking break," the man warned him gently.

As a soldier who was only in his early 20's, Fuery was able to claim the rank of Master Sergeant because of his own devotion to his work and his knack for tinkering with equipment. He would often go outside to get his hands on the work rather than oversee it from an office desk. No one could fix or fit a radio like Fuery could, so no one complained if they had to run down to the motor pool to find him to sign an approved license. However, though he held a decent status, he was still young and made a few mistakes here and there. This time, his mistake gave him a broken foot.

"It was a long night in the hospital, but they managed to patch me up a bit. I'm just out here waiting for the hallways to thin out. I don't want to be a road block with my crutches." His voice was filled with exhaustion. Fuery was horribly tired, if the bags underneath his eyes has anything to say about it. His body seemed to sag into the gate behind him, and if he was any thinner, Alphonse would have expected him to just fall right between the black iron bars and sleep there.

He shouldn't have come to work. He should have taken the day off like Edward, especially since he was stuck hobbling around on crutches. Alphonse knew from his own experience that they were just as exhausting as crawling your way to your destination. They hurt the hands and were hard to maneuver. He wanted to scold the Master Sergeant for pushing himself so hard after just getting his foot hurt, however, just as Alphonse was about to advise the man on his poor life choices, the young Sergeant caught sight of his wagon. His dark eyes wandered over the many sweets and goodies that filled the cart, stopping on a rather tempting apple tart before turning back to him with a spark of peaked curiosity.

"Did you stress bake again, Alphonse?" the man asked him, knowing full well the impulsive habits he had when he was stressed. It was actually the Sergeant who got him the recipe book he used; ever since Alphonse had brought in his first pie—whose crust was shamefully burnt and apples outrageously tart—the unit had encouraged his baking. Everyone gave him a few tips here and there, but none more than Fuery and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes. Alphonse got many recipes and a lot of help from Mr. Hughes' wife, and Fuery would often stop by his dorm to help him cook. Since they lived in the same barracks, Fuery would also help him out with chores and such, particularly when his brother was away on missions or out of town. He was grateful for his help and would give him an apple tart in return for his efforts.

"Y-yeah," Alphonse admitted shyly, not wanting to worry the man. "I'm going to take some of them to the children's home, but you're welcome to a pie."

Fuery let out a heavy breath, his dark eyes twinkling in understanding.

"Looks like we both had a rough night, huh?" He smiled weakly. "I'm sure the kids will love the treats, but I don't think Breda will let you to leave without giving him one of those strawberry pies."

"But his diabetes—"

"He could save it for when his sugar levels get too low." Fuery shrugged as he tried to push himself off the ground to stand once more. He only managed to knock his crutches over before falling over again. His foot flared, and the Master Sergeant let out a little yelp of pain.

Alphonse gasped and quickly recovered the crutches before going to the man's aid. Several soldiers turned their heads to watch his giant armored form lift the broken man and prop him up on his crutches. They didn't lift a finger to help.

Panting heavily from his excursion, Fuery adjusted the crutches and straightened his patrol cap. He looked ragged and worn, and Alphonse could tell that his foot hurt him a lot more than he let on. The man was too kind-hearted to let a little pain put him off.

"Sergeant, don't you have any pain medication for you leg? I would have thought the doctors would have prescribed you something."

The young man sighed tiredly. "It was late when I got out. I have the prescription, but the pharmacy was closed when I went to pick it up. I'll have to stop by after work today to get it. Until then—" Fuery shrugged.

Knowing that he wasn't as concerned as he should have been, Alphonse decided to pick up the slack. He turned around and rummaged in his wagon for the old leather rain cap of the Colonel's. He reached in and pulled out the small bottle of pills that he had tucked there to keep safe. He'd been going to return them to the Colonel, but seeing as he hadn't kept them to begin with, he didn't think it would hurt anyone to give them to the Master Sergeant for the time being. He could tell that the young man really needed them, and Fuery wasn't one to deny help should it come his way. Aid seemed to be a rarity now days.

Shaking the bottle to make sure that the pills were still there, he handed them off to Fuery, who took them gratefully. His shiny dark eyes glanced over the bottle before a thankful smile spread across his face.

"Thank you, Al. I am amazed that you have these on you."

"Brother is doing anything he can to get rid of them."

"I thought he went out to get some yesterday with the Colonel. Why would he want to get rid of them?"

"Don't ask." And he didn't ask. Instead he thanked him once more, tucked the bottle into his uniform pocket, and began to hobble through the thinned crowd to make it to their office before the Colonel blew a fuse. He had already missed morning formation, and Alphonse was worried for what trouble he might get in for that.

Grabbing the handle of his little red wagon, he slowly followed the Master Sergeant into the Command Center. He made sure to drop off a couple custard tarts for the secretaries and guards at the door as he made his way in. Despite their glowing backs and aching shoulders—no doubt the result of long days hunched over their desks—they smiled gratefully at him and told him to keep his brother out of trouble. They made it sound easier than it was.

Alphonse opened the door for Fuery, who thanked him and hobbled in, much to everyone's surprise. The entire office seemed not to have known of their youngest Sergeant's misfortune and swarmed him for the story. It took the man twice as long as it should have to get to his desk, which was still covered in broken radios and open toolboxes. Alphonse parked his wagon in the corner of the office and went to the water cooler to get the Sergeant a cup of water. The man was exhausted and was very eager to take the pain medication that he had given him.

The officers took notice of the baked goods in the room and were browsing them over eagerly.

One thing he had noticed over his few years of being acquainted with the military was that soldiers loved food. They loved it as an excuse to get out of the office. They loved it as an excuse to not eat mess hall food. They loved it just as a thing to do and talk about because work was so boring. This was exceptionally true when it came to Alphonse's baking; everyone knew that Alphonse's stress baked cookies were beyond the best in the entire Command Center. He made a good cookie on a normal day, but they never held the gooeyness or warmth that his stress baked ones did. Though it wasn't a good sign when he brought them in, everyone loved them anyway. It seemed that maybe when he was trying to cook his worries away, he took extra care in making sure he didn't worry about burning or putting too much flour in his recipes. Everything was as exact and perfect as it could be.

Alphonse took a box of cookies off the top and offered some to them; they were gone within a few minutes. Lieutenant Havoc had taken three cookies and currently was shoving the second one into his mouth while Lieutenant Hawkeye had graciously taken one and set it aside into her lunch that she packed herself every morning. Warrant Officer Falman was about to reach in to get one when Colonel Mustang swept by and snatched the entire box from Alphonse's hands.

The Colonel came into the office late, probably having gotten caught with the higher ups in the hallway like he usually did. Alphonse, on the occasion that he was in the Command Center with his brother, would often see the Colonel get cornered by some of the Generals. They gave him list after list of things to do and people to see, and he could tell how much that burdened Mustang, especially with the stack of paperwork Hawkeye undoubtedly had waiting for him. Alphonse wanted to assume that it was just a friendly reminder by the Generals, but he knew better. With Colonel Mustang climbing the ranks so quickly, the Generals liked to try anything to keep him from filling out his next promotion. Alphonse could tell from the irritated look in the man's eye that the Colonel had just gotten done with his daily brief.

"Alphonse, I would appreciate it if you didn't try fattening my men with your baked goods. Chief Falman shouldn't get a cookie because he failed his physical fitness test last month. I am afraid you can only give them to those who actually succeeded in sustaining their fitness scores," Mustang said with a pointed look at his eldest subordinate.

The warrant officer looked to be fumbling for an excuse, but finding none, he settled for a depressed, "Yessir," and returned to his desk chair to ease his glowing knees.

Seeming satisfied with his authority, Mustang smirked and then turned to Fuery, who was sipping the rest of the water that Alphonse had given him for his pills. His eyes looked over his subordinate's foot, not betraying any emotion he felt. Alphonse couldn't tell if he was disappointed in Fuery for breaking his foot or if he was actually concerned for his wellbeing. Both the Colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye were very good at covering their emotions, which Alphonse assumed came in handy when dealing with their superiors, but it made it rather difficult to tell what they were thinking.

"You missed first formation, Sergeant. Sign in or you won't get paid." He handed Alphonse the box of cookies, though not without taking a couple for himself. He turned around and motioned for Al to follow him back to his office as he stuffed one of the cookies in his mouth.

Alphonse grabbed the handle of his wagon and followed the Colonel, who had disappeared into his office. It was a little difficult to maneuver the wagon between the desks, but Alphonse knew from experience not to leave a cart full of baked goods unguarded in a military facility. He have neither pastries nor a cart to return to.

As he passed by Falman's depressed and hunched form, he faltered slightly. After a second of thought, he quickly sneaked another cookie out of his box and handed it to the Warrant Officer as he went by. The man appeared to nearly cry in gratitude, but Alphonse brought a finger up to his helmet in motion to tell him to keep it quiet. For his sake, he wouldn't want the Colonel to find out.

Falman silently nodded his head as he took a bite from the chocolate chip cookie.

Mustang's office was quiet when the door closed. It was slightly dim, as the lights had not been turned on yet, which made the scene easy on the eyes. The rising sun gave a calming light which was enough to read and do paperwork by for a morning. Mustang's glowing back provided another source of light that Alphonse would have bet was even brighter than the sunrise through the window. The man seemed to wince as he slowly lowered himself into his chair, not wanting to upset the glow that had already consumed him. He really shouldn't have given Edward his pain medication.

Alphonse pulled his wagon to the side, away from the door, and parked it so it wouldn't be in the way. He shifted through his goods till he found the Colonel's hat and pulled it out, brushing some stray crumbs off of it. He walked as silently as he possibly could over to the Mustang's desk and set the hat down as if it were a fragile egg.

The Colonel gave him a weak smile, his eyes still expressing his annoyance at the Generals, however, his grin was no less sincere. Al was only a little upset that after thanking him for graciously returning his hat, the man picked it up and tossed it carelessly across the room to be forgotten about until another day.

Alphonse rolled his eyes. Edward would never know how similar he was to the Colonel.

"Fullmetal told me about what happened in New Optain," the man's deep voice said softly.

Alphonse shifted nervously and nodded, not wanting to think about it. The glowing bodies in the river still haunted him when he least expected it. He would rather stay away from those intrusive thoughts if he could. "Yeah, he handed in his report the other day," Alphonse started, trying to avoid the topic, but the man just stared at him, his dark eyes shining. He knew what the wagon of pastries meant.

"You stress baked, Alphonse," he stated, holding up the golden chocolate chip cookie he still had in his hand. It left a small trail of crumbs on the coffee-and-ink-stained wood of the desk.

Alphonse stared at it, feeling slightly ashamed to have made it at all. He felt the ever growing need to just slink out of the office and hide as Mustang looked him over—but the Colonel's eyes softened and he rested his arm back down on the desk as if the cookie was too heavy to lift any longer.

"Because you didn't burn down the barracks this time making the world's best chocolate chip cookies and cakes, I assume that your brother talked to you?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Are you going to be alright?" the Colonel asked.

Alphonse looked up when he heard the sincerity in the man's voice. His composed mask that he held in front of his subordinates was completely gone, and in its place was the face of a man who was truly concerned for Al's wellbeing. Most people assumed that the Colonel was a narcissistic, self-serving womanizer, but the paint on a canvas does not portray the artist's actual mind, no matter how close it gets. The critic couldn't have been more wrong in this case, and no one told the Colonel that enough, but it seemed he knew that already.

Alphonse couldn't bring himself to looking him in the eye as he nodded.

Mustang waited for a verbal answer, but got none, so he repeated his question. "Are you going to be alright?" he stated, each word coming out slow and clear, as if they demanded a full answer.

Alphonse shivered and tried to collect himself. He only managed to nod his helmet once more and squeak out a barely audible yes.

The Colonel didn't look convinced as his dark eyes ran over him once more—however, he seemed to acknowledge that it pointless to push the conversation any further. He sighed and ran his hand over his face, massaging his stubbly chin. For some reason, he seemed to have forgotten to shave that morning.

"Where are you taking them?" he questioned, nodding his head to the wagon filled with goodies.

"To the children's home. I was thinking that the kids would like some home bakes. They don't get them a lot over there," Alphonse told him quietly. "Brother thinks it would be a good idea to sell them to get money for the home, but I think I'll let them decide for themselves. Some of the kids probably haven't had a good piece of pie in a while."

The Colonel smirked as he leaned back in his chair. Alphonse tried to ignore the twitch in the man's brow as his back flared.

"It has been common knowledge around the Command Center that I owe Fullmetal some change," the Colonel noted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his black leather wallet. It was thick, but didn't appear to be used often as the creases in the binding were still pressed and firm. Edward has been borrowing and lending money from Mustang for years and complained at how bad of a money pincher he was. Alphonse didn't think he was too bad; after all, the number one rule that money pinchers follow is never to have any on them—that way no one can borrow it.

The Colonel plucked a few coins and notes from the wallet before shoving it back in his pocket out of the way. "He's been screaming it up and down the hall for months now. I think he would consider it paid off if I gave it to you so you could take the kids some milk too. As amazing as your cookies are, I was left a bit parched from just one," the man said, handing the jingling coins over to him.

Alphonse held his hands up, not wanting to take it, but the Colonel grabbed his leather-bound hand and dropped the coins in it. He wasn't taking no for an answer. Alphonse looked down and saw a rather ungodly amount, and couldn't help but let a gasp escape him. How much did he think a couple gallons of milk cost?

"I didn't hear about you owing my brother any money, especially not this much!" Alphonse exclaimed as he looked back up at Mustang, who was grinning back at him, something clever hidden behind his eyes.

"Consider it insurance. I must tell you that as you graduate to higher ranks, promotion packets have to be filled with nearly anything possible to make you look good. I think I'll be the first Brigadier General who has community service in theirs." The Colonel smiled devilishly. His narcissistic mask was slowly reappearing on his face, and Alphonse could tell that for the safety of his image he either wanted the world to know he was giving milk to children for promotion, or he wanted it to be hushed so as to not sound too caring or soft. After all, the man had ranks to climb and a country to run. No one could be soft doing that.

"I won't tell anyone, Mr. Mustang," Alphonse said gratefully, and the man nodded. Taking the pause in conversation as sign to go, Alphonse put the loose change in the leather pouch on his thigh and jingled over to his wagon. He picked up the handle and was about to dismiss himself from the office when the Colonel called out to him one last time.

"Alphonse," he said, just as the phone began to ring. The loud piercing chime cut through the air, but didn't distract Mustang from what he wanted to say. He rested his hand on the phone as if that would quiet its noise and kept his stern gaze on Alphonse. "Don't give Warrant Officer Falman another cookie," he warned, before answering the phone and turning his attention elsewhere.

Alphonse bowed slightly and shuffled his way out the door, not wanting to disturb the man's phone call. He pulled his wagon out of the Colonel's office, the coins tinkling in his pocket, and closed the door silently behind him. When he got into the front office he saw that the Master Sergeant was waving to him, beckoning him over. His leg was propped up on his desk and he was holding a screwdriver as he worked on one of the hand microphones for the radio set. Alphonse shuffled over to him.

"Hey, I just got off of the phone with Second Lieutenant Breda and he isn't going to be in the office today. He has a doctor's appointment about his insulin medication. He asked if I could pull a strawberry pie off to the side for him. Would I be able to do that?" the man asked kindly. Alphonse chuckled as he reached into his wagon and pulled out one of the many pies. He set it down on the desk for him and Fuery smiled thankfully.

"It seems that you were right. Even though he isn't here, Lieutenant Breda still isn't letting me leave without one of the pies," Alphonse joked.

The Sergeant laughed. "Thanks Al. I'll give it to him tomorrow at the—" He was cut off when all of a sudden the door to Mustang's office flew open and crashed into its adjoining wall.

"THAT SON OF A BITCH!"

Alphonse spun around, eyes wide, to see the Colonel standing in the doorway to his office, his face red with anger. The light conversation of the room was quickly silenced as they got a look at their Commander's ruffled appearance.

Seeming to note how much he'd startled everyone, the Colonel took a moment to regain his composure. He took in a deep breath and slowly the redness of his face drained hue by hue. He straightened his jacket and turned to Hawkeye as if he didn't just burst through his own office door like a raging maniac.

"I just got a call from Fullmetal," he told her calmly, though his voice was still thick from the anger he held within. "Make a note that I got a chiropractor's appointment at two."

"I am not your secretary, sir," the woman informed him which just brought the red right back.


	4. Chapter Four

Glow  
Chapter Four  
Kain groaned as he heard the loud beeping of his alarm clock. Its ringing hammered at his ears and pestered his senses, giving him a headache before the day even began. He wanted to throw the darn thing out the window, but he knew that if he did and chose to sleep in, he would be disappointing one of his best friends.  
Sifting his hand through the many blankets on his bed, he managed to beat his alarm clock into submission before forcing himself away from the comforting arms of his bed.  
He rubbed his eyes, imagining the bags underneath them to be deeper than they were the previous night. It wasn't like he brought it upon himself—he didn't stay up late because he wanted to—he just couldn't sleep. Kain had spent the entire evening tossing and turning in his bed, unable to get comfortable because of his—  
"OUCH!" he exclaimed, falling back on his bed after having tried to stand up. As he got lost in his wandering thoughts, he had forgotten that his foot was broken, bandaged, and glowing like the fiercest of wildfires. He cursed quietly as he lifted his foot off of the floor and rested it gently on the bed. He didn't like to curse and he didn't do it often, but with how much his foot smarted, there were very few things that he wouldn't say given the opportunity. Kain cradled his foot until the light dimmed to a small sizzle of discomfort. Even the cast couldn't hide how badly it hurt.  
After regaining his senses, Kain forced himself to stand up on his good foot and lean over to the wall near his bed where he had rested his crutches. It had only been a day and he already hated them. They hurt his hands and his elbows ached from having to hold his weight up. Why didn't he check the vehicle's parking brake as the Private was messing around in the driver's seat? Why did the kid have to press the gas pedal when he obviously wasn't in it?  
Most people would have cited the Private then and there and possibly gotten him discharged from the military. Kain, however, knew what it was like to make a mistake, and even though this kid's was a colossal one, he still had ages to learn from it. From the look on the Private's face, he could tell that it would be a lesson that he never forgot.  
After blindly searching for his glasses where he assumed they had fallen off his bedside table, Kain unfolded the arms and carefully slid them onto his face. He blinked a couple times to get his eyes used to seeing clearly. He glanced up at his clock and saw the fuzzy outline of its hands pointing to 5 o'clock. He needed to get a new glasses prescription.  
Sighing, he regained his balance on his crutches and hobbled through his small room to get ready for the day. He struggled to get changed from his pajamas to his PT uniform even though he knew for certain he wasn't going to be running anywhere anytime soon. His foot was a pain to maneuver and got snagged on his pants a couple times. He managed to fall over twice in his attempts and the glow of his leg flared in aggravation. He just wanted it to heal already. Getting dressed shouldn't have been that tedious.  
After tying on his left shoe, Kain hobbled to the bathroom. The rest of his apartment was dark because the sun was still far below the horizon, but his foot lit the way for him. He flicked the switch in the bathroom and the flickering fluorescents clinked on. He reached into his medicine cabinet and pulled out the bottle of pills he picked up at the pharmacy the other day. The doctor had prescribed him a rather strong pain reliever and he was rather thankful that the Colonel let him leave the office early to go pick it up. Though it was only a few blocks away from the Command Center, his crutches made it feel like ten. He made it to the store only a few minutes before they were closing, and the pharmacist was nice enough to give him his prescription before they locked the doors. Without it, Kain didn't think the pain in his foot would allow him to sleep a wink.  
He took a few pills and then performed basic hygiene before hobbling back into his room. He opened his closet to pack a small bag with his duty uniform, but found that all of the hangers in his closet were bare. He felt his shoulders sag as he looked over at the pile of sticky notes he put on his door for reminders.  
Do Laundry  
Kain groaned, smacking his forehead against his closet door. He didn't have time to do laundry. Hell, he probably couldn't even haul the basket to the end of the barracks hallway. How was he ever going to get it done?  
A light bulb seemed to light in his mind. Quickly stuffing his uniform from the previous day into a duffle bag to take with him, he went back over to the edge of his bed and picked up the phone, dialing a number he had easily memorized over the years. The phone rang only a couple times for it being so early in the morning. It was picked up and instantly voices streamed through it. It was all background noise, but he knew exactly who was causing it.  
"Al, who the fuck is calling at five fucking o'clock in the morning?"  
"Ed, be quiet! I'm on the phone."  
"They woke me up! I deserve to know!" Kain heard the cranky voice of Edward Elric come through the phone. There was a clatter and a bit of yelling before he got an actual greeting; "Who the fuck is this and what the hell do you want?" Edward's voice sounded very nasally, as if he had a cold. It was likely that he'd gotten sick from his days in the rain and water. Kain almost expected it.  
"It's me, sir, it's Fuery—"  
"Oh," Edward muttered, realizing who it was. "Al told me you broke your foot. Are you all right?"  
"Yes sir, as all right as I can be," Kain chuckled weakly, the exhaustion in his voice unable to be masked. "That's what I wanted to talk to Alphonse about. I wanted to ask him a favor."  
"Okay, I'll hand it over," Edward said, but there was a slight pause on the line before he added, "and don't call me sir. It's weird." There was a clatter of the line and soon Kain heard Alphonse talking on the other end.  
"Master Sergeant, are you all right? Do you need help with something?"  
"I kind of do. I'm sorry for calling so early, but I was supposed to do my laundry the other day but then I went to the hospital. I can't really carry the laundry basket now. I was wondering if you would be able to help me with it. I got the cenz and everything but—"  
"It's alright, I can do it for you. Do you want me to come down now?"  
"If you can. I need to meet Lieutenant Breda on the PT field, though. I've been helping him with his run and I've got to be there to help him—"  
"Don't run on your foot!"  
"I can barely stand on it! Moral support," Kain clarified with a laugh.  
Alphonse chuckled with him, his voice sounding like he was talking through a tin can in his armor. "I'll be right over. I just have to get Brother back in bed. He got sick, small fever—"  
"Hey, don't tell me what to do! I'll have you know that I feel perfectly fine—" The line went dead after that, and Kain rolled his eyes as he placed the phone on the receiver. Those brothers were something else.  
Knowing that it wouldn't take long for Alphonse to come down from the third floor to the first, Kain hobbled around his room and gathered up everything he needed. He grabbed his small bag of cenz from his nightstand, gathered his duffle bag, and clumsily hauled them to the living room, collapsing on his couch. He sighed and lifted his foot up on the coffee table to rest it, then quickly put it back down when he realized he'd almost squashed the strawberry pie that he'd requested for Breda. He had set it on the coffee table the previous evening when he got back to his dorm so he wouldn't forget it that morning. It shone as sweet as ever, its red strawberries looking exceptionally plump. Alphonse knew how to make a good pie, and Breda loved it. When he gave that to Breda his day would be made. Kain wanted to get him something because he had worked so hard to pass his physical fitness test. After getting top scores, he thought there would be no better way to celebrate than to get the Lieutenant a good pie.  
Heymans never bought his own sweets. Though he had low blood sugar and constantly needed some form of sugar on him, he made it his own personal goal to not buy himself anything. He had a bottle of honey in case his blood sugar got too low, but otherwise tried his best to eat healthy. The only candies he would allow himself to eat were the ones offered to him by friends. Kain knew how much he loved Alphonse's strawberry pie. It was what he lived for. Getting a whole pie to himself was probably like a gift from heaven.  
Kain delicately tucked the pie into his duffle bag, setting it gently on top just as someone knocked on his door. He zipped his bag shut and carefully picked himself back up on his crutches. He unlocked the door and opened it slowly to reveal a giant suit of armor blocking his doorway. He knew that the helmet was made of solid metal, but if Kain really looked close enough he could see a small smile in the red soul fire eyes it held.  
"Hello, Sergeant!" Alphonse's childish voice rang out happily, spiting the fact that the sun was barely breaching the horizon.  
"Hello, Alphonse," Kain smiled back, hopping aside to let the armor in. The kid had to duck to fit under the doorway, but managed to clear it gracefully. Kain felt rather belittled standing next to the tall suit of armor, and what made it even worse was that the second he got in, Alphonse let out a little gasp as he looked him over.  
"Oh my gosh you look horrible," the armor blurted out as his eyes went over him a few times. They strayed over his unkempt black hair, lopsided glasses, the horrible bags under his eyes, and, of course, his glowing foot. Kain knew he looked bad. He couldn't easily get ready on crutches, and with minimal sleep for the past few nights, he was feeling terrible. The only thing holding him together was delivering the strawberry pie to the Lieutenant.  
"You should really take the day off, Sergeant. It can't be good to be on your leg so much," Alphonse advised.  
"I think I'll be okay. I'm just going to help the Lieutenant. Maybe then I could ask Colonel Mustang for a day off."  
"Edward had to wrestle the Colonel to get another day off. I didn't want him going in with a fever like he has," Alphonse mumbled, massaging the back of his helmeted head as he thought about it.  
"I hope he gets better," Kain said honestly.  
"Well at least helping with your laundry will get me away from Edward's complaining for a little bit. When he gets sick he finds anything and everything to whine about. He's like a baby," Alphonse chuckled lightly.  
Kain let out a small laugh as he motioned for Alphonse to come farther into his apartment. He turned on his crutches and hobbled over to the couch and coffee table. He felt a gentle hand on his back as Alphonse made sure he didn't topple over in his walk. He was grateful for that, because he still didn't feel balanced on his crutches.  
Kain pulled the small bag of quarters from where he had placed it and handed it to Alphonse.  
"I think there should be enough for, uh… three loads plus drying. Do you know how to wash the uniforms properly?"  
"Though Ed doesn't wear his uniforms I still have to wash them on occasion to keep them crisp. I know how," Alphonse told him.  
Kain told him where the basket was and the kid disappeared into his bedroom to get it. He emerged a few seconds later with the basket in his leather-bound hands.  
"Is this it?" he asked, and Kain nodded, picking up his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder to carry with him. It clanked uncomfortably against his crutches, but otherwise it didn't get in the way.  
He hobbled to the door where Alphonse was waiting for him. "Yeah. Are you sure you can handle it? I feel bad for making you—"  
"You aren't making me do anything. I'm happy to help. It would be horrible for you to go a few weeks without laundry just because you can't get it to the machines," Alphonse told him sincerely. The kid opened the door for him to hop through and then closed it almost silently behind him.  
Kain took out his keys and carefully locked the faulty latch. No matter how often he tried to lock it securely, a decent shove on the door would break it open. He never had anyone steal anything, but he still tried to lock it just in case. Only a few people knew the trick to opening his door. The Elrics were two of them.  
"If Edward needs something, I have vegetable soup in the fridge. You know how to get in, you're welcome to have it," Kain told him as he put his keys back into his pocket. Alphonse thanked him as he resituated the basket of laundry in his arms and set a hand on Kain's shoulder to steady him again as they walked slowly down the hallway. How grateful Kain was that he was on the first floor and didn't have to tackle the stairs with his broken foot. He didn't think he would even make it down, even with Alphonse helping him.  
When they made it to the door and the stairwell, the two of them thanked each other one last time and said their farewells.  
The walk to the Command Center seemed to take ages. The barracks weren't that far from the center—they were within the complex, just at the other end of the block—however, his crutches made each step take twice as long as usual and meters seemed like miles. Every leap made the bones in Kain's arm ache from carrying his weight. A dim glow started to come from them, making his body look even more like a celestial object than before.  
He was tired of the Illumination. It was too bright and made him feel even lousier than normal. The pain in his leg was bad, but the light just made him acknowledge it even more. He believed it was because of this that pharmacies and companies that sold pain relievers had a spike in profits.  
Kain panted as he took a rest at the gate of the Command Center. He was sweating from the excursion of just walking to work, something he did every day. Why didn't he just call the Colonel like Alphonse asked and request a day off? His vision started to cloud as his glasses fogged up from the steam his breathing was giving off. He closed his eyes tiredly and shook his head in disbelief. There was no way he was this out of shape.  
Sliding his glasses off the bridge of his nose, Kain carefully wiped them off before slowly pushing them back up on his face. Picking up his crutches again, he took in a deep breath before continuing his journey into the Command Center.  
The PT field was in the middle of the compound surrounded by the north, south, east, and west buildings of the complex. The large green field was used for drills and ceremonies, morning formations, and, of course, physical fitness. He could see some of the other units already out running in formation.  
The ranks of soldiers glowed with their individual pains and the effort of the run. Muscles ached, knees creaked, and cramps cried out with a haunting fluorescence. Even the strongest army in the world probably had cases of the Illumination upon them. Kain thought it was ironic, but he pushed the thought aside.  
The soldiers made their numbers sound from the hundreds to the thousands with the cadences the sang. If belted out with the full heart and spirit, they could reimagine the story of Gideon and make a large army appear almost unbearably big. The echoing words rebounded off his ears as the soldiers ran with the beat of their songs. Along with their empowering chants, Kain had always liked cadences because they helped one focus on their breathing and their pace when running. It was one tool he had used to help the Lieutenant out with his run.  
Looking out into the field, he could see a lone form waiting on the bleachers at the end of the track. The redheaded officer was relaxing in his own military issued shorts and t-shirt, waiting to start his training. Though his belly was a little larger than others, and though he wasn't the fastest runner, Lieutenant Heymans Breda was far from lazy and was one of the strongest people Kain knew. He made full marks on his push-ups and sit ups every single test and could load a military vehicle with equipment faster than some of the best Privates. A lot of the other officers made fun of Breda just because he looked overweight; though Kain was enlisted and was far outranked by even the youngest cadet officer, he would always find a way to put them in their place.  
Heymanns was toeing a small duffle bag that rested at his feet which probably housed his duty uniform, just like the one Kain was carrying. Kain caught his attention by waving as he hobbled across the field, and the Lieutenant got up out of his comfortable metal seat and met him across the field. It would have taken ages for Kain to crutch all the way across the large field, and the officer seemed to know that. His green eyes caught sight of the light that was radiating off him and gave a wince.  
"Crutches are a bitch," he said, giving a hearty laugh.  
"Don't I know it." Kain smiled back as he tried to take another hop, but was stopped.  
"Come on, it'll be noon till you start training me," Heymans chuckled, and suddenly Kain felt his legs being swept out from beneath him. He let out a little yelp of surprise as the Lieutenant lifted him in his arms and started to carry him across the field. The man had his crutches hooked through his arm so they were dragged along behind them. Kain held onto the man's neck, not scared that he would drop him, but frightened that his own clumsiness would make him fall.  
It wasn't long before he found himself on the bleachers, the Lieutenant falling next to him. Heymans stretched his back tiredly and Kain heard a satisfying pop. There was a small spark of light in one of his upper vertebrae before it disappeared to nothing. The man sighed with relief and looked down at Kain with one of his cocky grins.  
"You know we're going to have a uniform inspection today, so you might want to get your ass off your duffle bag before it squashes your boots out of shape," the Lieutenant said. Kain gasped as he looked down to find himself sitting on his duffle bag, and his heart felt like it stopped and restarted three times. He almost fell off his seat trying to get himself off of it.  
"No, no, no, no," Kain moaned as he unzipped the bag to see how much damage he had done. The only thing he saw was a horrible mess of red juice and berries. The strawberry pie was completely destroyed, and its juicy delicious contents were smeared across his blue uniform. Kain let out a small cry as the Lieutenant bellowed his laughter.  
"I wasn't expecting a lot, but definitely not that!" the man howled. Kain groaned as he reached into the mess and pulled out the pie tin. The strawberries sloshed out of the tin and fell to the ground to await a mass of ants and animals.  
Closing his eyes in shame, Kain handed the remains of the pie to the Lieutenant. There was a small chuckle that held a hint of unsurety in it. Breda took the corpse of a dessert from him and looked down at it.  
"This for me?" he asked hopefully.  
Kain nodded his head, still upset at how south his plans had flown. "Alphonse stress baked again, so I pulled a pie aside for you. I thought it would have been a good surprise for passing your physical test," Kain muttered. His plans for the day were ruined, and Kain now questioned why he even got out of bed that morning. Giving the Lieutenant the pie was the only reason he didn't press the snooze on the alarm clock. There was no other reason for him to be on the PT field that early in the morning with a broken foot. However, Breda always seemed to know how to pull his spirits back up.  
The Lieutenant grinned as he set the pie down on the bleachers, and the Sergeant felt the man's elbow nudge his side. "Well, the notion's still there. Now, how about I start running so next test that comes around I can get another pie?"  
Kain smiled weakly at that and watched the officer stand up and stretch on the track. He had spent the last few months waking up early in the morning just to help the Lieutenant with his run. In return, Heymans helped him with his push-ups and sit ups. It was a routine that they had gotten into, and Kain now thought it was silly to break it just because of his foot. Though he was now unable to run alongside Heymans to coach him, he could still help him out as much as he could from the sidelines.  
The man jumped lightly, loosening himself up. Kain sat on the edge of his seat giving him the rundown of what they were going to do that morning.  
Heymans groaned, seeming to regret waking up that morning. "Darn, I hate sprinting," the man huffed.  
"Thirty seconds sprinting, one minute walking. Easy peasy," Kain told him as he got his watch ready. The Lieutenant laughed as he got on the line ready to run.  
"Lemon squeasy," the man ended the saying playfully. "Says the guy on—"  
"GO!" Kain shouted, startling the officer.  
Heymans let out a small yelp of surprise as his legs started to take him sprinting around the track. He took the first few periods of sprinting pretty fast. Kain called out when the time stopped and started so that his friend didn't have to count it out himself. The field was large but his voice carried easily across it, even with the other units calling their cadences.  
As Heymans ran on, Kain noticed his speed getting slower and slower. He was practically walking when he bridged the halfway mark for the tenth time, and a piercing glow started to emit from the man's body. Even from the distance where he sat, Kain could see the light starting to swirl around his head and prickle around his legs. It wasn't the normal muscle fatigue, he knew.  
It was well known that the Lieutenant had an issue with low blood sugar which was one reason why he would never be deployed to combat. He kept it in check by eating meals regularly along with snacks every now and then. He was really good at regulating it himself, which made Kain wonder why it was acting up now. If he had breakfast like he usually did, even with PT he should have been fine—but now he looked like he was about to drop.  
The Lieutenant kept a bottle of honey with him for emergencies, and Kain desperately tore through his duffel bag trying to find it, but it was missing, and even when he pulled out all of Heymans' clothes he couldn't find anything for him.  
Kain looked back up to the field to see the Lieutenant flat on the track with a crowd of soldiers growing around him. He begged to God he didn't pass out.  
Grabbing the pie tin—which was still coated in strawberries—and one of his crutches, he hopped off the bleachers and started to hobble across the field. Each hop was awkward, off balanced, and unbearably slow. Kain worried as to what state Heymans was in. What if he was too late because of his crutches? He hobbled as fast as he could, but even then he felt rather pathetic. The Illumination in his foot taunted him with his own pain.  
He eventually reached the crowd and demanded the soldiers to let him through. They awkwardly parted, and Kain fell down to the Lieutenant's side, his crutch falling haphazardly behind him.  
"Shoe laces," he heard Heymans mutter as he rubbed his face tiredly. Kain wiped his eyes and looked at the pale man in front of him. His skin was cold and clammy, covered in sweat from the running he just did. He was muttering almost nonsense as he moved around on the ground like a drunk bastard. Kain let out a sigh of relief as he saw the man flounder about. At least he was conscious.  
"Sir, eat some of this," Kain wheezed, still flinching at the pain in his leg. He pushed the pie tin towards the man, who blindly batted it away.  
"I can't feel my legs."  
"Your blood sugar is low, you have to eat this!" he ordered him as he dipped his finger into the pie tin and scooped out some of the sugary strawberries. He pushed them to Breda's mouth, which was still mumbling nonsense. The sauce smeared across the officer's face as Kain tried to get him to eat it. Heymans gasped suddenly as sat up, pushing the Sergeant down as he dumbly stared at his legs. The prickling starlight danced across the man's feet as if pins were being pushed into him. He stared at them in bewilderment. Soon he began to cry.  
"I lost my legs, they're gone," the man bubbled and whined, even as he wiggled his toes.  
Kain regained his senses from where he was pushed down and growled at the officer. "You didn't lose your legs, they are right there! Now eat this!" he told him, pushing the pie back toward the officer.  
"I don't want pie, I want my legs!"  
"This pie will bring your legs back, eat it and you can get your legs!" The officer's eyes went wide as he looked up at him. A small smile crept on his face as if he had witnessed the miracle of all miracles. Kain didn't know what his mind was thinking as his blood sugar messed with his perception, but the officer was looking at him like he was a god. The Sergeant rolled his eyes as he gave the pie tray to the officer, who was finally looking to eat it.  
Breda not-so-neatly dug into the dish as if the faster he ate, the sooner the miracle would work its magic. When Heymans was about to put the tray down, Kain ordered him to finish it clean and it was picked up again.  
Kain sighed as he watched the man eat. It was a relief that he had the pie with him. Even though it was smashed, it was substantial enough to be a good replacement for honey. He was relieved that he brought it now. If he didn't have it, he wouldn't know how long it would have taken someone to retrieve something from the kitchens. The Lieutenant could have been unconscious by then.  
After a few minutes, Kain watched the prickling in the Lieutenant's legs start to fade and his headache dim slightly as the sugar he consumed started to reach his blood stream. He knew that Heymans always suffered from a headache after his blood sugar dropped, so it wouldn't disappear until sometime later.  
Seeming to understand that the danger and hilarity was over, the crowd of soldiers around them started to disperse. He heard a few quiet comments about how funny the Lieutenant's confusion was. Snickering and jabbing quickly faded as the young arrogant soldiers created more distance between them and the scene. A few of them showed their worry for the officer, and Kain was grateful for that, but he ushered them off as well. There wasn't much more that they could do aside from wait.  
Heymans gripped his head and moaned tiredly as he looked down at the mess of strawberries on him. Seeming to realize what had happened, Heymans cursed. "I knew it. I knew it! That new prescription really fucked me up this time," he complained. He ground his fingers into his temples to get rid of the glowing light behind his eyes, but it did nothing to sooth it. Curses flew out near silently as Heyman's deep voice growled about his doctor. He tried to stand up even though he was still horribly off balance. Kain was amazed that he was able to stand at all, but after a few moments of teetering and staggering, the officer had his two feet planted underneath him. He closed his eyes for a moment and massaged the back of his neck. His skin still was sweaty and clammy, but Kain was glad to see that he was looking less pale. Slowly, he was returning to his old self.  
"Sorry Fuery, I was expecting the medicine to be a little off, but I didn't think it would be this bad. The doctor prescribed me a new thing, apparently it's supposed to be more effective," Breda sighed.  
Kain chuckled, knowing that was an obvious understatement. "It seems to have worked too well."  
Heymans smirked back at him and held out his hand to pull him to his feet. Kain took it and was lifted almost effortlessly into the air. He wobbled on one leg for a moment, but soon had his crutch underneath him. A hand patted him roughly on the back, a gesture of gratitude by the Lieutenant. Kain looked up towards the officer, but couldn't see his face as steam started to fog up the lenses of his glasses. He took his glasses off his face and quickly wiped them off before returning them to the bridge of his nose. The new clarity revealed a rather wide smile across Heymans' face, even bigger than the one usually there. It was heartfelt, and it was true.  
"How glad I am to have a friend who both brings me pie and saves my life in a single day," he chimed, his voice lighthearted, but holding the world's weight in it. "How about we get back to the locker rooms and figure out how you're going to pass the uniform inspection? I don't think the Colonel would really appreciate one of his soldiers having pie all over his blues."  
Together, the two of them retrieved their bags as well as Kain's other crutch before making their way to the locker rooms to get ready for the rest of their day. They were a sight to behold in the hallways of the Command Center; dirty, ruffled, and each in their own way broken—but Kain assumed that that was true about everyone in the world.  
It was a great relief to see that the more they walked, the better Heymans was looking. Kain wouldn't have said he made a full recovery, but by the time they made it to the locker room, his friend was looking a lot better and seemed to finally be able to walk and stand without threatening to topple over.  
Heymans collapsed on the bench that was spread between the rows of lockers and Kain took his horribly messy uniform to the sinks to try and get it cleaned up. It was only his jacket that was coated in sticky sweet strawberries—he had changed into the rest of his uniform by then to get out of his filthy fitness uniform—but it was still and ungodly mess to try and wash off. He turned the water on and took a few towels to scrub lightly at the mess. A light glow stung from his fingers as the hot water heated up. He gasped, pulling his hand out of the water, and watched the light fade away after a moment's hesitation. Switching the water to cold, he tested it a few times before continuing his work on his uniform.  
Looking in the small dirty mirror that hung above the sink, Kain saw another gentle glow behind him. The Lieutenant's headache was still raging on, obviously annoying the man with its persistence. The large man had already changed into his blue uniform and was now massaging his brow until the light faded. It didn't seem like it would give.  
Kain sighed as he shifted his weight on his good foot, returning back to his work. However, as he did so, he felt a weight in his pants pocket that normally wasn't there. Knowing it wasn't his wallet, Kain reached down hesitantly and pulled the object out; it was the small bottle of aspirin that Alphonse had kindly given him the other day. He had forgotten it was in there.  
Taking his time to turn off the water, he walked back over to the bench where the Lieutenant sat, doubled over his headache. He dropped the bottle down into the man's line of sight and shook it lightly, listening to the pills rattle lightly on the inside.  
Heymans looked up at it and took it from his hand curiously before turning his gaze upward to meet Kain's eyes.  
"Forgot I had it." Kain smiled gently. "I don't need it anymore, so you can just hang onto it for that headache of yours."  
"You don't know how grateful I am for this," Breda breathed, his voice carrying the relief he was feeling.  
Kain looked at the sharp dagger-like glow that was emitting from Heymans' head and chuckled lightly. "I think I do." He returned to the sink to finish cleaning his jacket and Heymans joined him. He took a couple pills out of the bottle and with a handful of water from the sink he swallowed them down. He hung out by the sink while Kain washed his uniform. After a few minutes under the water, he picked up his jacket and inspected it. The blue color of the uniform was definitely better than when it first went in, but it was still splotted and wet. Kain wondered if there was any chance that the lighting in the office would cover his unfortunate accident, but the Lieutenant let out a short belt of laughter.  
"You're fucked."


	5. Chapter Five

**_Glow_ **

Chapter Five

Heymans was very glad to see the light on the side of his head disappear as the day went on. When his headache was really bad, the Illumination felt like someone was shining a flashlight in his face, which only made the pain worse. For something that was supposed to make you acknowledge your pain, it sure did a fine job of giving you more.

Heymans didn't like the Illumination at first. Pain was something that people tried to hide. It was startling for him to find that people's locked doors were being ripped from their hinges by the blinding light. He saw the Colonel struggle to cover his own discomfort with the phenomenon, trying to hide his physical pain from the hovering Generals. It was making it seem all that much harder to become Fuhrer when people saw shining weakness. Heymans wasn't looking to become the Fuhrer like his boss was, but he didn't like it when women at the bar cooed over his small scrapes and scratches he would collect over the course of a day—as pretty as the nightly women were, sometimes he just wanted to be left alone to drink a good beer and relax with a hearty dinner. But he learned to appreciate the Illumination very quickly the first time the Master Sergeant caught him fighting hypoglycemia.

He had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning a few years ago, and the Colonel had pushed them through an extra long session of physical training that day since Warrant Officer Falman still couldn't pass his physical fitness exam. Heymans had made it through the practice but had collapsed in the locker room when his balance started to give out on him. He guessed he should have known that his blood sugar was low when he couldn't put his uniform shirt on correctly, having tried to do it both inside out and upside down, but he was never in the best of mind when it happened. When he went down, most of the other soldiers in their unit didn't know what to do other than stare at him.

He didn't like telling people he had diabetes because they automatically assumed he only had it because he was fat and lazy. All through high school he had kids taunting him with overly sugary foods because they thought he was a chubster. Because of that, he stopped eating sweets and avoided the topic as much as possible.

Unfortunately, that was his downfall. Since no one in the unit knew that he was diabetic none of them knew what to do. It was Fuery who had the presence of mind to pull out his packed lunch from his duffle bag to give him. The Master Sergeant had originally thought he was overheating and needed electrolytes to help rehydrate him, but it was sugar he needed. The juice he gave him solved both problems. Fuery had learned he had low blood sugar and since then kept an eye out for him. Because of the Illumination, he was able to catch the signs early. The glowing headache, the sparkling feet, and the pulsing light of his heart were all visible signs that the Sergeant had learned to pick up on.

With his most recent incident that morning though, the Illumination was just a nuisance as he tried to massage the remnants of his headache out. Luckily for him, Master Sergeant Fuery gave him a small bottle of pain medicine to help. As the light faded, he was considering finding the Sergeant to return the bottle to him—but Colonel Mustang had sent him home after he failed his uniform inspection. Heymans believed that the Colonel was using it as an excuse to give the young Sergeant a day off to rest as he noticed the huge look of relief on Fuery's face as he left the office that morning. Though he surely had a long hobble back to the barracks, at least he was going to return to a nice bed.

Heymans, on the other hand, was going to have a long day at work. He could already see the piles of papers stacking up. He couldn't bring himself to feel bad for the Colonel and all the paperwork he had to do, because the man brought it on himself with his procrastination. It took two seconds to sign a paper while Heymans was the one who had to go through and make sure all of the information was correct. He usually kept on top of it, but today he couldn't focus.

The storm in New Optain seem to cause a flood even in their own office with all of the papers they needed to fill out. Personnel records, orders, casualties, personal letters, property damage reports, etc. Most of it was either about, from, or requested by Major Elric. As much as the kid didn't like having a desk job, he was still rather thorough when it came to his paperwork. When he wanted to do it, at least. Heymans saw funeral service requests for a few of the farmers who passed away in the flood. It appeared that they were past war veterans or prior service members. How Fullmetal got all of that information, Heymans didn't know, but the fact that he was requesting an honored burial showed just how much he cared.

Many of the older soldiers considered Fullmetal to be a bratty teenager who had no right to be in the military. In fact, most of the higher command held great dislike for their entire unit. Lieutenant Havoc was too laid back, Warrant Officer Falman was too much of a smart-ass, Master Sergeant Fuery was too soft, Lieutenant Hawkeye was wasting her skills in a small unknown unit, and Colonel Mustang was an egotistical womanizer who had no meaning in politics. Heymans himself heard backwards comments about almost everyone he worked with, but reading the paperwork that Edward turned in reminded him that they couldn't be farther from the truth.

Heymans took a few hours to cut the stack down by half its size and built the pile of paperwork on the Colonel's desk by the same amount. Though he and the rest of the soldiers in their unit knew how to professionally forge the Colonel's signature, he thought that maybe the man would want to see exactly what his youngest subordinate was up to.

It was by accident that they learned how much the Colonel wanted to take part in the Elrics' affairs. Heymans had once signed off on a travel voucher that Edward turned in after a rather long assignment, and when the Colonel didn't see it in his pile of paperwork, he chewed Edward out like there was no tomorrow. Heymans liked to think that he failed his last hearing test because of it.

Mustang scolded the young teenager about his finances and his spending of his research grant all the way down to not getting a receipt from a simple travel voucher. From then on Heymans made sure all of Fullmetal's paper work always went through Mustang, especially the travel vouchers.

As for Alphonse, it was a little harder for the Colonel to keep tabs on him since he wasn't in the military and couldn't leave a paper trail behind him. Instead, the Colonel made 'strong recommendations' to go on a walk in the park with him every Saturday he had off. Heymans didn't know what they did during that time—he didn't know what they talked about, or if they even talked at all, but the Colonel would always come back to the office Sunday morning a little more at ease with the world. Until Havoc did something outrageously stupid to screw up the Colonel's good mood.

As Heymans kicked his feet up on the desk to get more comfortable, the Colonel walked into the office after his morning meeting with the Generals. A piercing headache was shining from his skull, but Heymans was glad to note that there wasn't a spark of light on his back. Apparently, Edward had taken it upon himself to arrange an appointment for his commanding officer to see a chiropractor. Everyone in the unit had been poking and prodding the Colonel to go to the spine doctor for years, but the man threw every excuse in the book at them. It seemed all it took was for their youngest soldier to make the appointment himself. Though Fullmetal and Flame held a feud that was near legendary amongst the soldiers in the Command Center, Heymans couldn't say he was surprised to see the younger of the two reach out to help his commander like that. He kind of expected it.

The Colonel took a moment to talk to Lieutenant Hawkeye at her desk before he parked himself at the corner of Heymans'. He stood as stiff as ever in an attempt to look professional in front of his men. Heymans knew the man was the biggest slacker in the book; professional barely made it into his dictionary.

The Colonel opened his mouth to speak, but Heymans took a chance and cut him off with a smirk.

"No need to be so stiff, sir," he grinned. "What can I do for ya?"

The Colonel's mouth slammed shut, baffled that his subordinate spoke out before him. His eyes widened for a second before they caught sight of his obvious smirk, and then they lowered again. A look of full seriousness and concentration was plastered back on his face. To Heymans it looked like there was a stick up his butt.

The Colonel cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. "I'm going to request a game of chess from you, if that's alright," he said smoothly.

Heymans frowned. The Colonel only played chess with him if something was bothering him or there was a problem he had to think through. Heymans himself was a very capable chess player and nearly matched the Colonel's own skills in the strategy game. It was always a hard fought battle, which one would think would cause more stress rather than relieving it, but Mustang always seemed to be better off afterwards.

Nodding, Heymans followed Mustang into his office without question and closed the door behind him.

"How is everyone's standard's coming? I know Warrant Officer Falman is still behind on his physical fitness, so I sent him to go do training with the special forces unit stationed here. That should be enough motivation for him." Mustang hummed as he went over to his bookshelf and pulled off a beautifully crafted wooden chess board. It was from Xing and made from bamboo wood burned with intricate designs and flourishes on the sides.

Heymans had never seen one like it before, and when he'd asked about it, the only response he got from the Colonel was that it was a family heirloom. He didn't ask again.

Clearing his throat as he watched the man set up their match, he answered the question. "Everyone is clear on their medical exams. Physical fitness test, everyone passed but Falman. On the uniform inspection we had one failure—"

"Master Sergeant Fuery."

"And one absent," Heymans finished.

The Colonel looked up at him, confused.

Heymans was the one who kept track of everyone's standings in the unit and made sure they got all of their routine duties finished, however, the Colonel seemed to always be up to date on numbers as he also liked to keep track of everyone in their unit. Why he asked him about things he already knew was beyond him, but Heymans could see the alertness that had arisen in the Colonel when he had forgotten about someone.

"Who? Who didn't do their inspection yet? Everyone was in this morning—"

"Sir, Fullmetal. He didn't come in for his uniform inspection. I told Fuery to remind him about it when he goes back to the barracks, but apparently he's still sick. You gave him an extra day off remember?"

"Well, this will be his last one. We can complete the inspection tomorrow when he comes in. I'm sure Alphonse will kick that runt into gear." Mustang sighed as he finished placing the king in its appropriate spot.

Mustang always played with the black pieces, leaving his opponent with the first move. Heymans didn't know why he would let his opponent get the upper hand in taking the first strike, but he guessed that just let him analyze how his opponent moved. In chess it was always harder to set up a good defense than it was to set up a good attack, but once the walls were up it was difficult to push them down.

Heymans moved his pawns to set up for a Queen's Gambit. He always played for a King's gambit, but since the Colonel looked especially aggravated this morning, he thought maybe skipping the initial setup routine would make it worthwhile.

"A lot of the paperwork for the mission to New Optain is coming in. You should probably look at it after I beat you in this game. Fullmetal has requested funeral honors for some of the farmers who were in prior service or veterans."

"Has he, now?" the Colonel hummed, not taking his eyes off of the board. He moved his pawn to free his bishop. "As much as he says he hates the military I am frankly surprised that he would make a request like that."

"His train to Resembool often passes through Optain. He might have known some of the people there. Fullmetal's an alchemic genius, but he isn't coldhearted."

"Some people think they are one in the same. I know my fair share of geniuses and none of them I would willingly buy a drink for," Mustang mused.

Heymans chuckled lightly as he finished setting up his gambit. "Would you buy a drink for yourself?" He smirked and got an annoyed glare from his superior officer. The man's buttons were so easy to push, but he never let them change the way he played the game.

Mustang's knight took his front pawn.

"I would buy myself a drink if it would make spending another hour in the military bearable. The Generals have been relentless lately. With the Optain mission causing a huge rise in expenses for emergency relief, they're placing the blame on me for not sending a more capable State Alchemist. If they understood anything, they'd know you can't blame a person for what mother nature has wrought," Mustang growled.

Heymans took the opportunity to relieve his bishop from his care.

The Colonel sank back in his chair, ignoring that it was his turn to move. His gaze was distant, and Heymans could tell that there was more on his mind than what the Generals were gossiping about. Who cared what they thought anyways?

Heymans frowned as he leaned back in his chair. He stretched his legs out, glad to see that the prickling stars that scattered them before were now gone. They held no light. However, the Colonel's headache flickered as the man closed his eyes and massaged his brow. He looked tired and worn.

As much as Heymans wanted the week to be over, for the Colonel it couldn't come faster.

"Sir, what is it you wanted to talk about?" Heymans asked gently.

The Colonel's dark eyes turned to him for a moment before they flicked away. Mustang let out a sigh, straightened up, and leaned across the table to take another one of Heymans' pawns off the board. "It's the First Lieutenant. She's been spending too much time at the firing ranges lately."

"Sir, she's a shooter, a sniper. That is what she does."

"Like I play chess, she shoots," the Colonel said cleverly.

Heymans frowned as he leaned forward to look at the board. He took his time to flick the Colonel's pawn off of it, then straightened out and crossed his arms in frustration.

It was odd; the First Lieutenant rarely got upset. She wasn't one to bother with trivial things, and after everything settled down from the Ishvalan war, nothing major really happened to put unnecessary stress on her. Heymans would have been completely clueless as to what was wrong with their only female soldier, but he then remembered the packets of paperwork he was working on before the New Optain mess came through the office. Since he was in foreign affairs, the Generals had assigned him to build a theater in the south along the border of Aerugo. Their relationship with the southern country was shaky at best, and gun spouts were a common thing near the outposts that they had already set up. It had been his job to pull people from a few select units spread across the country and send them to the outpost to relieve the soldiers that were already there. Though Heymans never really hung out with her that much even when he was still stationed in Eastern Command, he knew that Riza Hawkeye was best friends with Second Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina. He had seen her name on the list to be deployed to the south. It was only for a couple months, but a lot can happen in a short amount of time.

Heymans had noticed that the Illumination that had been shining on Hawkeye's shoulder from the strain her rifle had put on it only started after he had told her about her friend's deployment. She had excused herself to make a phone call after the warning.

Heymans sighed and massaged his brow. "Sir, it might be because her friend, Rebecca Catalina, is deploying next month. Her name was on the roster I had sent out."

"Ah," Mustang muttered as he put him in check.

Heymans quickly moved out of it and re-evaluated his defenses.

"She sure misses spending her lunches with her. Maybe they should start doing it again."

Heymans nodded, understanding what the Colonel was thinking before he even said it. "Two months is a long time to wait for a day out. Sir, I think it's about time to give the Lieutenant a day off."

"She never takes a day off. She'll get suspicious."

"Then don't tell her. Although," Heymans muttered as he thought about arranging a surprise visit to Central for Rebecca, "she might be too much of a surprise for Havoc."

Second Lieutenant Havoc had the unfortunate business of dumping Rebecca for his move to Central Command. The man was poor with relationships as is, and Rebecca was the only one that seemed like it was going to last. With his most recent break up, Heymans wondered what state his friend would be in when Rebecca came round again. He rolled his eyes to himself. Havoc man would get over it… eventually.

Heymans and the commander took their time to finish their game of chess. Their paperwork wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, so they didn't have to rush. After a rather close game, Mustang being the victor, the Colonel excused Heymans so he could make a rather 'important' phone call. He knew that Mustang was just going to call Eastern Command for the sake of their valued First Lieutenant. Her shoulder could only take so many trips to the range before it fell off. With the amount of light coming from it, Heymans expected that to be soon.

Leaving the office, Heymans had every intention of going back to his desk and starting up his paperwork. Unfortunately, he barely closed the door to Mustang's office before he saw a sight that would forever stick in his memory.

Soldiers are supposed to be physically fit at all times. Everyone has a standard to maintain, but even then there is a large variety in strength and skill amongst members of the military. There were the reserve soldiers who held their standard for two times a year. There were the active duty soldiers like Heymans' own unit who were slightly above average in physical skill. Then there were the special forces soldiers.

Even in Heyman's best physical state, he doubted that he could last training with the special forces. They probably did push ups in their sleep. They ran so much, Heymans doubted that they even owned cars to get to the Command Center. As well in their fitness prime as they were, Warrant Officer Falman, who was already behind in his training, had no chance at keeping up with them.

It was supposed to be punishment for not passing his fitness exam, but with how much Falman was glowing it was more like he just came out of the depths of hell. Sore muscles burnt through the thick fabric of Falman's uniform for everyone to see. His arms, abs, and legs were glowing with so much pain from his excursion that Heymans wondered how the Warrant Officer could even stand, let alone walk back from the field to their office. A pained expression was plastered across his face as he hobbled through the office like he had a stick up his ass. He found his desk and barely bent his knees before he collapsed in his chair. Heymans didn't think he would be getting up anytime soon.

Out of everything on the lantern that was called Vato Falman, his knees glowed the brightest. It was well known that with the graying hair on the Warrant officer's head that he was the oldest member of their team. Though everyone poked fun at his age for some lighthearted laughs, growing old is not for the weak. It came with its own ailments, and though Falman could list every medical oddity and cure off the top of his head, he could not prevent himself from getting arthritis in his knees. It was because of this that he was failing his run. Heymans saw every day the dull glow in the man's legs, but it was nothing like it was after his fitness exam, and especially not as strong as it was right then after his training with the special forces. Pain wasn't a strong enough word for him.

Havoc was already striking up a rather amusing conversation with the exhausted Warrant Officer when Heymans got over to his desk. It looked like the man was on the verge of emotional distress from his punishment, something similar to what one would go through during basic combat training. Havoc's teasing was not making it any easier for the geezer.

"Havoc, stop torturing the poor man," Heymans chuckled.

The ash infused soldier turned to him and held his hands in the air like he was purely innocent of all crimes. That couldn't have been farther from the truth.

"Hey, I just never saw someone glow as bright as a yule tree in that many areas. I want to know what they did to him—"

"Running, pushing, climbing, everything," the Falman whined as he laid his head down on his desk, probably wanting to take a nap before the Colonel saw him. Their superior officer would probably have his own snide comments to make about Falman's physical state.

"Alphonse didn't leave any extra cookies laying around did he?" Vato begged, his eyes pleading for something to at least make the pain bearable.

Sweets, though didn't stop the pain, took the mind off of it by making it all feel worth it. Unfortunately, baked goods never lasted long unguarded in the Command Center. That was why Heymans had asked Fuery to save him a pie. If he didn't, he would have found an empty pie tin with his name on it.

Heymans sighed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small bottle of pain medicine that Fuery had given him earlier. He had wanted to give it back, but the Master Sergeant had gone home early to rest his foot. He highly doubted that he would want it back, considering that he had just gotten some stronger stuff from the pharmacy the other day.

Heymans set the bottle down on Falman's desk, and the man looked up at him when he heard the rattle of pills. "It isn't a cookie, but I'm sure this will work," Heymans said lightly.

"Are… are you sure you won't need it? I heard about your hypoglycemia today. You usually get a headache with it," Falman said.

"I think sore muscles last just a bit longer than a headache. I don't know if the Illumination breaks any uniform codes, but I doubt people want to see you glowing like a jack o'lantern."

Falman thanked him over and over again. Havoc, being done with his teasing, got him a glass of water to take the pills with. They watched as the man down the glass of water and two pills in only three gulps. It was a wonder how he didn't choke on them.

With a relieved sigh, Falman smacked his head back on his desk to resume his nap, but Havoc wasn't going to let him go that easy.

He nudged Heymans in the shoulder with a wink and turned back to the Warrant officer with a sly smirk. "Man with how much those guys were running you, I have a feeling you're going to pass your next exam."

"I'd better," the man muttered into his desk, not willing to lift his head and aggravate his sore muscles. He looked like a board just resting on his desk. He was so tired.

Havoc shook his head and tsked as if in disappointment. "Man, it was a shame. We were only expecting you to be partially ready now. The Colonel just asked the special forces unit if they would consider doing this again next week."

"WHAT?" the Warrant officer exclaimed as he finally found the energy to jump out of his chair once more. It was amazing how one could find energy in the fear of a moment.

Havoc started sniggering and Heymans found himself doubled over with laughter.

Falman was not having a good day.


	6. Chapter Six

**_Glow_ **

Chapter 6

The Illumination to Vato was just another way of seeing the world. He used to watch people go down the street as history books still in print. Some volumes were very small, having just a few years written in their pages. Some were so large that their bindings were falling apart. Dates, stories, events, and timelines were all sewn together inside every person. It didn't matter what color their eyes were or if they were pretty or ugly, Vato just saw the story of their lives clinging to every crevice of their being. He could determine if a person liked to talk or not, or if they were having a bad year or a good one, just by reading a few open pages of their book.

With each page he turned, he could catch a glimpse of hope. He saw the hurdles that they overcame and the obstacles that they conquered. He found the strength in the people around them through their history, and he could see the strength in himself as well. He used this view on life to do everything. He knew how the world worked by reading its history. However, it all changed when the Illumination began, and he then swung into the worse years of his life.

Everyone was confused with the new phenomenon. Though it helped improve difficult aspects of the healthcare industry—those pain charts with the smiley faces weren't needed because nurses could tell who was in the most pain by light intensity—the Illumination itself wasn't considered very helpful in everyday use. In fact, to the more common morale, the Illumination was doing more harm than good.

Vato felt this first hand.

The confused and frightened citizens of Central reflected on their own pain rather than their own pasts. Vato found his image of walking history books fade away and get replaced with his own copy of Gray's Anatomy. The world wasn't a history of conquer, but now a journal of injury, pain, and suffering. Hope of healing was overrun by an alphabetical list of complications, secondary infections, and future illnesses.

As much as Vato wanted to see what people had overcome in their life times, he had now lost hope and only saw how fast the end of the road was drawing near; Vato saw a case of pneumonia where he once saw the elderly man who lived through the Cretan border crisis; he saw chicken pox instead of a young girl who pulled a cat down from a tree; he saw black lung instead of a miner who had finally raised enough money to buy the house his family had dreamed of. Vato hated the Illumination because it caused him to see the strong people he had once admired turn into broken humans who were only as strong as their bones and immune systems would let them be. His heroes transformed into ordinary people, and Vato even found his own strength leave him as he saw his ailments take light.

Currently, Vato's strength was taken from him in the form of muscle weakness and exhaustion. The training exercise that the Colonel had cruelly assigned him to was eating away at his entire body. His muscles still glowed like one of the floating lanterns he saw his kids release during the fall festival, and no matter how much he ate, his stomach never seemed full. Vato stared at the breakfast plate in front of him. It had once been filled with a wonderful home cooked breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and sunny side up eggs, but was now completely wiped clean. His energy bank was now in debt, and his body was demanding payment in food and rest. Unfortunately for him, the Colonel was demanding everything but.

Knowing that being late was not in his list of things to do, Vato tried his best to get up and leave for the office. However, his glowing body had other plans for him.

He let out a small cry of pain as his body sparked and screamed at him. He was using what little energy he had to make the attempt to stand up, but it all fizzled out as his muscles groaned and flared at him. His efforts were knocked out of him like a swift kick to the stomach and he lost the three inches of altitude he had gained as he collapsed back down into the hard chair.

He was about to let out a cry of frustration, but a warm-hearted chuckle cut him off. Vato looked up to see a case of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis watching him from their dining room. His wife was staring at him with warm, cheery blue eyes. The shadow of laughter still on her lips as she watched him struggle to get out of his chair.

The Illumination didn't touch her like it did him. In fact, it was the absence of light that had first made him worry. With how quickly she exhausted her arms in moving things around the house, he would have expected her to be hurting from something. He could still see small shimmers of light from pinpricks on her fingers where she twitched and fumbled with her sewing, but aside from the occasional cut or scrape, there was a great absence in muscular light. It was because of this that he knew his wife was declining—but she was oblivious to all of it. She played off her occasional twitch as a shiver from their broken air conditioner. She blamed her weakness on old age. Vato didn't know how to break the news to her, so he was waiting until their next doctor's appointment for the actual physician to tell her what was happening to her disappearing youth. It was just a matter of time.

His wife gracefully strode over to stand behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a gentle hug. She was beaming at him that wonderful smile he had come to love the first day he met her, he could see it out the corner of his eye. Seeing it made him forget his pain and his fear of the future and return it with his own grin.

Their smiles were exactly the reason both of them fell for each other. As he waxed poetically that her smile probably came right from the gardens of heaven, she had just laughed and told him that his smile looked like a sloth trying to mimic a baby alligator. Vato thought that she was trying to insult him and tried to defend himself by rambling on about random facts about the odd sloth, but then she added playfully that sloths were her favorite animal. Their first Yule together, Vato took her to the zoo.

A light peck on the forehead drew him away from his thoughts and he looked up at his wife, the sunshine through the darkest moments that the Illumination had brought on him. Because through her obvious struggle, she still seemed to be the happiest woman alive. Vato guessed that had to make him the happiest man alive.

"You need to get to work," she reminded him, her voice soft.

"I was in the process of getting there," he responded.

"Does my strong soldier need help?"

"Maybe."

His wife removed her arms from his chest and held them out for him to hold onto. Vato hesitated a moment as he saw them trembling in front of him. The tremors had taken her hands' grace away from her but she still offered him what they had left. He reached out and took a hold of them gratefully.

With all of their might put together, they managed to get him out of the chair. Though his body ached and creaked all the way into his current position, something that resembled standing, the light in his body dimmed.

He received a light kiss on the cheek from his wife. "Better?" she asked him.

"Almost," he hummed, and he gave her a kiss right back. As he pulled back, another heavenly fit of laughter escaped her lips. "Now I think I'm good."

They walked out to the foyer of their small townhouse, and Vato picked up his small brief case from the entrance way table where he'd left it the night before after he got home from work. He knew everything that was in there down to the last discarded gum wrapper Breda had, as always, snuck into his bag because he was too lazy to empty the garbage bin under his desk.

Though Vato had his hand on the doorknob and was all ready to leave, it seemed to him that his wife was not. Her hands pulled him back into the house and he soon found a small paper bag placed in his hands. He looked inside it to see a neatly wrapped ham sandwich and some of the blueberry muffins that his wife had brought back from the children's home she volunteered at.

"I packed you a lunch so you don't have to eat those awful mess hall rations."

Vato felt his heart warm up knowing his wife was thinking of him when she brought home those muffins. He wanted to thank her for it, but the only thing that he managed to choke out was the history of the midday meal being called lunch instead of dinner.

She brought her finger up to his lips to quiet his ramblings and smiled once more. "I'm always learning something new from you. Now you should go to work, and don't let the other soldiers tease you too much." With one more kiss on the cheek, his wife sent him out of the door with his packed lunch and a lighter spirit.

He felt a thrum in his chest as he got in his car and started the engine to make his commute to work. The smile that he gave his wife was still on his face as he mused about how lucky he was to have her. Though the Illumination only managed to find new ways to drag him, lighting up all of the pains and aches the world had given him and every other person that day, he was able to forget them all when he looked into his wife's eyes. Though the fate of numbered days was looming over his shoulder, his heart was still high as he remembered the happiness his wife's eyes held. He wished everyone could be as lucky as he.

However, as much as he wished he could hold onto his joy, he couldn't. The drive to the unit was long, and through the windshield of his car, the only things he could see were the busy morning cases of influenza, pneumonia, and cancer walking down the street to their own respective jobs.

Though the water on the streets was all but dried up, the people that morning were trudging to work like they were hiking through the flooding rain. A case of herpes hung on the corner waiting for the light to turn and a delivery man with a broken arm tried his hardest to carry a package to some person's front door. It was a dismal scene that many ignored, but Vato couldn't help but wish he could just go back and look at the history books instead. If he could, he would see a young lady who overcame a string of abusive relationships going to her morning classes for her law degree. Her briefcase with overflowing classwork told him that this was so. He would also see a man who overcame his fear of dogs to defend a little girl from being bitten on his delivery route, only to end up with a broken arm himself. The dog spray and friendship bracelet that hung with his truck keys around his belt were the open pages in the book that Vato would have been able to read if the Illuminating pain didn't beat him to the end of the story.

Nearing the Command Center, Vato saw a whole new set of aches and pains making their way to work. Many of the soldiers were nursing headaches that lasted from their drinking the night before, while others were cradling head colds from long nights in the office degrading their immune systems. The lights were plenty near the Center where the nation's strongest and most impenetrable men and women were supposed to be stationed. Vato had once thought himself to be one of these strong people. Now he only saw the pain and weakness that their bodies were displaying for the world.

He wondered what Briggs must be looking like right now with all of the lights from the Illumination sparkling off the crisp snow.

Amongst the men and women dressed in the blue Amestrian uniform, Vato spotted a rather brightly glowing soldier stumbling down the sidewalk toward the Command Center. It was a modest distance from the barracks to the Center, one that many people had to walk, but this soldier seemed to be having a very hard time with it. Either because he was rushing out the door and didn't have time to study his appearance or because he didn't care about his uniform, the man wore his blue military issued clothes like they were drapery; the jacket hung down past his hips and the sleeves were so long that they needed to be cuffed to even show the poor man's hands. The pants, like the sleeves, were cuffed and stuffed haphazardly into the large black boots to avoid tripping, however, that task was easily covered by the tasset that hung around his hips.

The tasset was notoriously the most ridiculous piece of the Amestrian military uniform. All the soldiers in Vato's unit liked to joke around and call the odd length of cloth a butt cape. The male soldiers would run around pretending it was a skirt, or if they got a hold of two they would act like they were from the country of Donbachi wearing a ceremonial kilt. Vato even saw one soldier once covering his bare bottom with them as he proclaimed that if the Donbachians went to war without fighting panties so could they. The soldier was quickly discharged from the military for mooning several of the female staff.

Vato constantly had to remind them that the tasset was not a skirt and definitely was not made by the Donbachians. The tasset was founded before the current countries even existed. Vato could inform the soldiers of why they used the tasset in its current form, but usually only got as far as dating the first appearance of the armor ancestor before one of the other soldiers would shut him up. No one appeared to enjoy the history of the military, let alone the service itself.

Out of all the people Vato saw wearing their most pointless uniform piece, this soldier was by far the most pathetic display. The man dragged himself around like he'd wrapped a blanket around his waist to improvise a wedding gown. The tasset was so long it nearly touched the ground and easily got caught underfoot. Vato very much doubted that the uniform was made for him. The soldier probably got mixed up in another person's wardrobe and put the wrong uniform on accident. It wasn't like they looked very different.

Vato watched the soldier stumble and curse as his uniform got bunched up underneath his shiny black boots. He thought he saw the headache that was derived from the man's head cold give a flare as his head jerked with his stumble, but it quickly went away as the soldier stopped on his trudge to tuck his pants back into his boots.

As Vato was passing the soldier, he noticed two rather large glowing rings of Illumination consuming the poor soul's right shoulder and left knee. Upon seeing them, Vato realized that he had made a mistake in his judgement of character. The man did not have some drunken clothes mix up that morning. The uniform was overly large not because it was made for a larger person, but simply because the soldier himself was particularly small.

Golden eyes looked up from where the young man was preoccupied tying his boot and caught his own. A look of dread instantly washed over the soldier.

Vato pulled his car over to the side of the road next to where Edward was currently crouched trying to fix the right leg of his pants. The pace at which Edward was fixing himself had gone from lazy to haphazard in an instant as if he was trying to escape a feral wolf. Vato found it odd but lowered his window anyway to talk to the young officer.

"Hello sir, I barely recognized you," he called.

Edward gave him a look like the wolf had finally caught him and was currently chewing on his throat. He carefully finished his work on his boots and trudged over to the window of his car as if he would be put on death row if he didn't. Vato saw the irked expression on his face, but realized it was more from embarrassment than simply being annoyed with his conversation.

"Hello Falman," the kid sighed, though he gave no more conversation than that. He looked tired and his voice came out nasally as his head cold seemed to have gotten the worse of him. The Illumination pressed a bright burning knife to Edward's face as his headache bloomed out from his temples and pushed outward around his nose and forehead. It made him look like he had a radioactive sunburn on his face.

Vato never knew a day in his life where he had seen Major Elric without some form of odd light coming off him. He would sometimes come staggering into the Command Center with Illumination peeking out from bandages over his face after having endured his most recent battle with one of Alphonse's stray cats. Other times he would have bruises on his arm from where Alphonse gave him a rather nasty hit while sparring, or a burning cut from where he miscalculated how sharp a paper edge of one of Mustangs reports could be. His back would sometimes ache from sitting in the library chairs all day. His legs would glow from a sprint across town to catch the train. His neck would crack from craning his head into a book for too many hours of a night. These pains would go away once his muscles healed or scabs grew over, but the light that never left him hung around his shoulder and his leg. It was like an identifying mark. Vato could look at the Illumination that sprang from Fullmetal's automail and know it was him like one could look at the color of someone's eyes, the flush of their cheeks, or the gait of their walk and know that it was them. The pain was now a part of Edward, and he seemed to wear it like he didn't even know it was there. Vato believed his ports only glowed now for show.

Edward was one person who Vato saw with the Illumination and was still able to find hope in. He guessed that with as much as he and his brother went through before, the Illumination was little of an omen and more like dust on his shoulder ready to be brushed off.

The only thing Edward was not able to brush off was the embarrassment of wearing his uniform in public. Vato saw the officer subconsciously tug on the collar of his blouse, as if pulling it up might make it appear to fit him normally, but the only thing it did was show just how much fabric the kid wasn't filling.

Edward glanced behind him to some of the people walking past on the sidewalk and his face turned a light red hue underneath the glow of the Illumination. Vato realized that though Edward was never early to formation, he was making the walk to the unit a lot earlier than usual. With far less people out that early, Vato deciphered instantly that Edward was trying to avoid being seen.

"Can I give you a lift to the Command Center?" he offered. Vato was not one to laugh at others faults. He got enough teasing from everyone else at the unit, especially Lieutenant Havoc, to understand that no one wanted to be on the short end of the stick. With as much as Edward got about his height, he thought better to spare him the embarrassment of catwalking his small stature down the sidewalk to the Command Center.

"Oh God, please," the kid choked out, barely audible to anyone. Edward, faster than Vato had ever seen anyone move before, flung open the door and in a blink of an eye was buckled into the passenger seat. He pulled his knees to his chest and curled up in the seat, looking smaller than even his clothes made him out to be. Vato took his time to start the engine.

As he was about to pull out into the driving lane, an Ambulance suddenly whipped past him at an ungodly speed, its lights flashing but its sirens mute. Thanking the heavens that he wouldn't have to explain to his wife why his car was flattened by a medic's vehicle, he looked behind him and pulled out.

The ride was silent, though Vato tried to start many conversations with the youngest officer in the Amestrian military. Knowing that the kid wasn't in school, he wanted to give him a taste of Amestrian history to learn from. After all, the kid was more into science than history or politics, and one needed a well-rounded education to succeed. With an interesting topic having near flattened them, Vato started off with the brief but extensive history on the ambulance. It started off as a means of taking away the dead or dying from the village but then the Arugonians started to use it as a method of emergency care during—

"Falman," Edward's nasally voice cut him off in mid-lecture, "please shut up."

The car was silent for the rest of the drive.

Vato began his normal routes through the Command Center. He liked to get there early so there wouldn't be so many people upsetting his morning routine. He waved at the receptionist, stopped by the break room to get a cup of coffee, grabbed the sign in roster from the front office, and made his way through the building towards where his desk lay. The joy he took in this relaxing routine was severely dampened by the exhaustion his muscles were screaming about, and also the fact that Edward was trailing impatiently behind him, using him as a shield to stop prying eyes from staring at him. Vato realized after the third time Edward told him to walk faster that he was not going to have a good morning.

Vato was unceremoniously shoved into the office by a rather flustered State Alchemist. Silence was the first thing Vato heard as all of the eyes in the room stared at him from their own desks. Well, it was actually the person behind him they were staring at. Apparently, the Colonel, unknown to Vato or the unfortunate Major Elric, had sent out a notice that they would be holding a meeting early that morning to discuss the next month's schedule.

Vato wanted more than anything was to go to his desk, ease his sore body down into the chair and not get up until final formation occurred. However, with all eyes on him and Edward trying to use him as a shield to get to Colonel Mustang's personal office, when the laughter started he knew that he wouldn't be able to relax even for a moment.

Sergeant Fuery fell out of his chair howling with all of his might. Without the ability to form words, the only thing he could do was point at Edward and continue with his hysterical laughter. Lieutenant Breda was faring better as he still withheld the ability to stand, though Vato could see a light glow spike around his middle as the man grabbed his stomach, trying to ease the pain his laughter was causing him.

Vato had always thought Lieutenant Hawkeye to be the most sensible out of the office. She tried her best to not let her emotions govern her decisions, valuing a clear mind over a compassionate heart in the work environment—but even she had trouble hiding her chuckles as she brought up a hand to cover her mouth in hopes of silencing her laughter.

Edward's face only turned redder. "It's not funny!" he started to yell at all of them but that only managed to send them into more tears.

"S-someone get a camera! Please, I'm dying—" Breda bellowed, leaning heavily on Fuery's desk to keep himself from falling to the floor. "You look like a toddler!"

"Who the hell are you calling a fucking—"

Suddenly the door to the Colonel's office whipped open and slammed into the opposite wall, the loud crash effectively silencing the entire room.

There was a permanent dent in the wall near Vato's desk where the doorknob frequently hit the wall. From the Colonel's careless exits to the Edward's dramatic escapes, Vato had quickly learned to sit on the opposite side of his desk to avoid injury.

Vato called the room to attention as was courtesy when their superior officer walked in. Everyone abruptly stood up, Fuery having to pull himself up from the floor, and stood stiff as a board waiting for the Colonel to let them go about their business. Edward was the only person in the room not standing at full height as he groaned and pushed himself farther into Vato's back.

The Colonel, though he had his face deep in a pile of reports, seemed to notice them all there still.

"Called to attention?" he asked as he looked up, surprised by the sudden act of courtesy.

Though it was supposed to happen whenever a higher ranking officer walked into the room, it was seldom done in the office. Only when Vato was there to remind everyone that the rules and courtesies of the military stated this formality did anyone stand when the Colonel walked in the room.

The black eyes turned to Vato instantly and with a raise of his eyebrow, Vato knew what he was going to say.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, Vato. At ease," he mumbled as he waved everyone to sit down.

With as much as the Generals belittled him, one would think that a man like Mustang would take any respect or notice he could get. He said that it was reserved only for when people were watching. He didn't want any courtesies to impede office production. He claimed that was the sole reason why their office was the most efficient in the Center. They didn't waste time on bullshit.

Vato liked to disagree with calling it bullshit as he knew the history behind the military's customs and courtesies, but he could see the logic behind not doing for the sake of office productivity, if not their sanity. He still did it nonetheless.

The Colonel walked over to Breda's desk and with the pen that he habitually bit, finished signing the last few papers with a flourish before relinquishing them to the Lieutenant's care. Turning around, the man's eyes fell back to Vato as he stood there stiffly with Edward still behind him. His eyes glinted with a smart look as he saw how Edward was hiding. Vato wanted to move to avoid being used as a shield to block the Colonel's flames, but he saw the twitching smirk on the Colonel's lips and knew that he didn't have time.

"I should have realized by the sound of laughter that Fullmetal had graced us with his presence. He must have shrunk since the last time he has been here, because I can't seem to find him," the Colonel said, a playful gleam in his eyes. Vato knew it was a trick, but Edward didn't seem to catch on as his temper got the best of him. He burst out from behind his makeshift shelter, his face flush red with anger.

"Shut up! At least I'm not a giant asshole like you! If your ego was any bigger you would have a head the size of a—"

"Ah, there you are Fullmetal, glad to see you came," the Colonel calmly said, brushing off the outburst.

This only made Edward more furious. With one glance over Edward's ragged appearance, Vato could tell by the twitch of the Colonel's mouth that even he was struggling not to laugh at his subordinate. However, with a deep breath, he recovered.

"Fullmetal, we usually do a more thorough inspection of uniforms, but you seemed to have failed instantly."

"Well fine," the kid grumbled, crossing his arms defiantly. "I don't understand why we have to wear these things—"

"Military uniforms were made as a form of identification so the military can clearly tell enemy from friend in times of war. Their uniform aids in the recognition of unit, mission, and service. They also provide protection against the elements and—" Vato started, but he felt a hand rest on his shoulder and looked over to see the Colonel begging him to shut up with a glare. Vato clamped his mouth shut, stopping his vast knowledge from spewing out. It was hard to remember so much and not share it with anyone. Maybe some other time.

"As a representative of the Amestrian military as well as for the respect of the fallen veteran, wearing the uniform is necessary. You cannot and will not show up to New Optain without it on and properly inspected," the Colonel told him, short and simple.

Edward's eyes turned suddenly to worry as he realized how important the uniform was to the funeral and, more importantly, the family. Vato would never understand why Edward made all of those arrangements for the families in Optain. Maybe it was because he felt guilty that those lives had been lost under his supervision; maybe for a moment he had put his dislike for the military aside and found some respect for those who were before him. Whatever it was, it seemed that Edward had his heart out for those who had fallen in Optain, even the smallest farmer.

"How am I supposed to get all this," Edward exclaimed, motioning to the heaping lengths of fabric, "to fit by tomorrow? I need to leave on the train by noon!"

"Come on, Chief," Breda said sympathetically. It seemed that he had gotten all of his laughs out of his system. "I'm sure we can find someone in this base that shares the same uniform size—"

"You… you can't," Edward mumbled as his face returned to its red hue.

Silence filled the office.

It was well known that Edward never wore the military uniform, even in the most recommended cases, but the reason was not so well known. Rumors spread through the Command Center on why he didn't wear it; some said it was because of his State Alchemist certification that he got special privileges along with his research grants. Other said it was because the Fuhrer personally allowed him to wear his own clothes. Only Vato and the Colonel knew the real reason as to why Edward wore his bright red cloak everyday instead of the Amestrian blue; it was because even the smallest uniform did not fit him.

After initial training, Edward had quietly inched into the Colonel's office when everyone was away and addressed his "issue". After a large amount of laughter that Vato could hear from his desk, the Colonel got Edward a waiver for his uniform. Vato only found out later when he had seen Edward's uniform size after one of his yearly private inspections. When he needed an inspection, he would go to the Colonel in private to do it. This time however, he was late, and Mustang had no free time that day for a private inspection, meaning Edward's complete humiliation was inevitable.

It seemed at that moment the rest of the office had figured it out too. Vato was deafened by the laughter, and he found Edward burrowing into his back, trying to hide from all the pointing fingers as now even Breda lost his ability to stand.

"Sh-shut up! It's not funny!" Edward whined into the cloth of Vato's uniform.

Looking behind him, Vato could see the top of Edward's golden head and his beet red face, wishing nothing more than to just turn invisible at that moment. Turning around, Vato addressed the younger but higher-ranking officer at attention.

"Sir, I think I have a solution," he said quickly, putting a stopper in Edward's embarrassment. The golden head looked up at him, the red flush of his face dimming to a pink as he tuned out the laughter from the rest of the team. A look of surprise sprang across the kid's face, almost hopeful.

"You do?"

"My wife is a seamstress for a hobby. She fixes up my uniforms all the time when they aren't up to standard. I am sure she can make some alterations for you. She's a fast worker, after all—"

"Are you sure it's alright?" Edward asked, unsure of taking such a huge favor from him. One thing that Edward was never shy with was generosity.

Vato nodded his head, making a smile spread across Edward's face.

"Hey, thanks!" he said, his stuffy nose making his consonants a horrible wreck.

Vato walked over to his desk and wrote down a quick address for him for formality's sake, even though Edward wasn't a stranger in his house; he often stopped by unannounced and uninvited to ask a few questions about a random subject that he needed answers to. He and his brother would sometimes set up a small space in his house to do some light research so in case they had any questions that needed answers they could simply ask the encyclopedia, as they liked to call him. It was easier to ask him than to look it up themselves in books that gave half answers and wordy nonsense.

Though Vato couldn't make odds or ends of their studies, he gave them the answers they needed and they, for once, eagerly listened. It was a silent exchange they had. Because of their small research parties, Edward and Alphonse had the wonderful privilege of tasting his wife's cooking. To his dismay, the both of them had to admit that Gracia Hughes' was better.

Handing Edward the address, he told the young alchemist to go right away to let his wife take his measurements (upon questioning his wife later he would find they were sworn to secrecy) so that she could start on the adjustments. Edward took the piece of paper and practically sprinted out of the office, tripping over his uniform a couple times in the process, which only made the uproar of the team even louder.

"Oh man, if Edward doesn't get that fitted soon, he is going to get the first line of duty accident caused by a uniform malfunction!" Breda chuckled as they finally got some air into their lungs.

Fuery let out a snort at the thought. "Soon we'll have to do preventive checks and maintenance on our uniforms." Breda punched him in the shoulder, agreeing with his funny comment.

"If Havoc was here, he would have eaten Edward alive with the teasing," Hawkeye mumbled. Everyone instantly agreed.

For Edward's sake, it was a good thing that particular Lieutenant wasn't present.

After a few more chuckles, the office settled down at their desks to begin the long day of work. Vato hobbled over to his desk and glanced down at the chair that had been calling his name since he clambered out of his car in the parking lot. His aching thighs screamed at him as he slowly lowered himself into the chair. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as his legs gave out on him and he collapsed into the comfy worn-down cushion of his desk chair. However, before he was able to get truly comfortable, a hand came down and slammed onto his desk, shaking any lulling sense of ease from him.

"Don't slack Falman. I have an errand for you," the Colonel said, taking away any hope that his day was going to be decent.

"Yes sir?" Vato said, the lack of energy making it come out as a groan, which was something he never would have allowed to happen on a normal day to a superior officer. But the Colonel didn't seem to mind—he looked to have something concerning on his mind. And when the Colonel was bothered about something, it was nothing little.

Vato sat up as much as he could, but his muscles screamed at him and he ended up just staying where he was.

"Lieutenant Havoc seemed to have gotten himself into a pinch at the hospital—"

"The hospital?!" Vato exclaimed. This was the last thing he expected.

Havoc wasn't there that morning, but it wasn't unusual for him to be late. In fact, it was more unusual for him to be on time. A sudden fear spiked through him as he imagined an ungodly amount of light coming from the Lieutenant, all of the horrible ways someone could glow on their way to the hospital—Vato feared the worst. Havoc already had so much light glimmering in the bottom of his lungs from his horrible smoking habit, he could only imagine the complications that came from that. Ignoring the pain in his legs, Vato immediately stood up from his chair as if its temptations weren't there at all. "What happened?"

"He said it was a false alarm for an appendicitis. Now he just needs to be picked up. Could you do that?"

"Y-yes sir," Vato said, his fears quickly diminished. It was just like Havoc to get a false alarm when his desk was pile high with work. He sighed and took a moment to gather his car keys before saying his farewells to the office. They all gave their own words to tell Havoc when he picked him up, most along the lines of 'stop being so lazy', then he was off.

The drive to the Hospital wasn't as long as it should have been when finding out your friend was admitted but it was surely felt longer than just a few blocks. Vato felt himself growing aggravated with Havoc. His day was now ruined and he had to go to the hospital and cart him around town. However, what really got him was that he couldn't figure out what was wrong with him; one couldn't fake illness anymore with the Illumination, especially to the extent of a case of appendicitis. There would have been a huge light radiating from his right abdomen that wouldn't have been explained by much else. Whatever was really wrong with Havoc, even Vato and his vast knowledge of medical texts couldn't decipher it.

Havoc was waiting on the sidewalk by the outpatient doors to the hospital. He was in his pajamas, not having changed since his panic that morning. The only sign that he was in the hospital was a wrist band with his patient identification number and treatment restrictions, which he was currently trying to chew off, and a small bag of possible medication that the doctors prescribed him. There was a burning light that came out of his abdomen right where his appendix was, and Vato could only imagine the amount of pain Havoc was in.

Vato took a second to park his car, and the blond soldier quickly jumped in, wincing as he sat down in the passenger seat.

"God damn it, bloody doctors. Why do they need to make these bands so hard to get off?" Havoc growled as he finally snapped the bracelet off with his teeth. Vato opened his mouth to answer, but the blond quickly sent him a glare and he closed his mouth.

"What did the doctors prescribe you? It was an appendicitis, right?" Vato asked, but the man shook his head with a wince as his abdomen flared once more. Vato heard a particular rumbling in his bowels that seemed rather uncomfortable to Havoc.

He reached into the bag of goodies, and Vato couldn't help but notice how he turned away from him so he couldn't see the label. That wouldn't have mattered though because the instant he said the name, even the non-generic name, Vato knew exactly what was wrong with him.

"Polyethylene glycol 3350, whatever that is," Havoc huffed as if he was playing cool through the whole thing. Vato had to bite his lip for a second to stop himself from laughing as he let the reality sink in. The doctors had prescribed Havoc with a medicine that helped increase water in the bowel which would stimulate movements. He held in his hand a laxative, which were only used for one thing.

"You're constipated?" Vato laughed, praising the heavens that payback came in such a brutal form. Havoc liked to tease him and poke fun at all of the misfortunes that befell him in the Command Center, and there was no shortage of those. Vato wasn't one to stoop so low as to tease someone, but this opportunity was handed to him on a silver platter and was practically doing the work for itself. With his vast memory, he would be sure never to forget this.

Havoc's face turned beet red as Vato spoke his ailment out loud and looked over his shoulder as if there was an unseen entity in the car that might have overheard him.

"Shut up! I haven't shit in a week! I can barely move with all of this! It hurts!" Havoc tried to defend himself, but Vato only laughed louder at the poor man's expense. He only turned redder and fumbled for a retort. "W-well, look at you! You're glowing like a pumpkin's head. Are you're sore, or has rigor mortis already sunk in?!"

"Rigor mortis happens past death! I have muscle fatigue and you know it. The only similarities is that they are both caused by lactic acid," Vato exclaimed, shocked that he would bring that up, but he was too busy laughing at him. "Just let me enjoy this! You went to the hospital… for constipation!"

"Well I'm not trying to enjoy it! Ow, ow, ow," Havoc whined as his bowels gave a particular tug. Whatever rocks were in his intestines were not going to move very kindly, even with the aid of a hard laxative.

Vato felt a shiver run down his spine as he visualized what terrible pain and horrors Havoc would have to deal with in only a few hours time.

"Come on," Havoc begged him, his defensiveness gone as he realized what dire need he was in, "please, Falman, help me make this not hurt—"

"Falman? I do believe you more often refer to me as the walking encyclopedia—"

"Is, "Oh Great and Knowledgeable One" more your speed?" Havoc gritted out.

"I would rather you promise to never call me a human book ever again," Vato mumbled under his breath.

Havoc sucked in a large amount of air and let it out. Vato didn't know if it was because of his impatience or because he was hurting again.

"Please, I won't call you that anymore. I just need something—the doctors didn't give me any pain medicine," the man begged him. If Havoc could have gotten down on his knees, Vato didn't doubt he would have.

Vato pulled the car off to the side of the road in front of the barracks where Havoc stayed. It was odd for an officer to stay in military housing, but Havoc didn't have anyone that he really needed to impress, so he just saved money with the barracks. Vato liked to think that his cheapness was the reason why he didn't have a girlfriend.

Seeing the pleading eyes of his friend, Vato had to relent and give up on his own teasing revenge to help out a friend. He pushed his hand into the pants of his uniform and pulled out the small bottle of pain relievers that Lieutenant Breda had given him. They were just light over the counter relievers, but it was better than nothing. He handed the bottle to the Lieutenant, who took it like it was plated with gold.

"Two every 6 hours. No more."

"You aren't my mom, Ency—Falman," Havoc growled. He scooted his way gingerly out of the car and closed the door. He was about to make his way towards his barracks, but suddenly stopped and turned around, leaning shyly against the door of Vato's car.

"Uh, hey, Chief. You don't mind not telling anyone about this, do you? I… I would rather it just be between you and me," Havoc mumbled.

Vato took in a deep breath and stiffly smiled back at him. "Of course."

Seeming to take his answer for granted, Havoc stepped away from the car and went back to his room. Vato pulled the car out of park and back onto the road. A huge smile was on his face as he thought of how ridiculous it was for Havoc to have gone to the hospital for something as small as a bowel movement. A week without taking a shit? He really questioned just how full of crap Havoc was, literally and metaphorically.

However, the smile on his face stayed even beyond thinking of what happened to his friend. Because though he promised not to tell anyone about what had happened in the car, he could not bring himself to lie to his commander's face when the Colonel eventually asked. After all, rank and rules were everything in the military, but payback was better.

Maybe that day wasn’t going to be so bad after all.


	7. Chapter Seven

**_Glow_ **

 

Chapter 7

 

"Get away from me, you big loaf! It isn't that funny!" Jean scolded Lieutenant Breda.

 

The man was rolling around on the floor, his abdomen bright white from laughing too hard. His howls could be heard from down the hallway, attracting the curious eyes and ears of anyone passing by.

 

Jean felt his face flush red in what he would have loved to call anger but was really embarrassment. He should have known that it wasn't an appendicitis. He should have suspected that his low-fiber diet would cause his downfall, but with as much pain as he'd been in and how much light was spilling from his right abdomen, Jean was scared. He wasn't used to the Illumination being anything more than a faint glow that hung around. It was overwhelming. However, he found how easy it was to make a mistake in self-diagnosis and ended up with a hefty hospital bill for over the counter laxatives. The doctors told him he had a moderate case of constipation.

 

It all started the previous morning when Jean woke up to find a sharp glow in his side; it was outrageously bright in the dim light of his bedroom. The window shades were closed, blocking off the morning sunshine that always woke him up at a horrid hour. Now that annoying sunlight was replaced with a painful rock in his gut. He didn't know if it was the light or the pain that had woken him up, but the instant he saw it he knew something was wrong. Moving was horrible. Just standing up from his bed felt like his intestines were being ground to dust. The Illumination flared so brightly that he was momentarily blinded. He had to cover his eyes until he felt the flare die down to a throbbing ache just to save his vision.

 

He had only seen one case of appendicitis in his life. It had happened during a training exercise in the heat of the eastern plains. A man next to him had been complaining about an upset stomach all day; everyone was annoyed with his whining since they were in the middle of loading the vehicles, even though they could all see the steadily increasing glow in his abdomen. They knew he wasn't overreacting, but they were too busy to care. Within the hour the Illumination in the man's stomach grew so bright, they had to drop what they were doing to block their faces. One poor soul got a tent beam dropped on his foot and had to go to the medic for a broken toe. But once the light calmed down, the man didn't complain. He seemed better than before. After that scare, everyone just continued what they were doing, not knowing that one of their comrades would die in their sleep three days later from septic shock.

 

Jean didn't want to be that person and called a medical team to get looked at. They sent an ambulance and he was at the hospital within a few minutes. Now he realized how big of a mistake he made as all his coworkers were pointing their fingers in him and laughing. He had gone to the hospital for a shit. Though the laxatives did relieve him far more quickly than a change of diet ever would, he'd had a rough night. His abdomen still glowed faintly from the abrupt release of pressure and now he held a faint glow around his ass, evidence of his shameful experience. There was only one person aside from the doctors who knew what had really gone on, and Jean knew that the bastard had not kept his promise to keep quiet. The smug look on his face told him he was enjoying it all too much.

 

"I thought you weren't going to tell anyone, you bastard! You promised!" Jean glared at the Warrant Officer, who was trying to hold in his own cheaply won giggles. He kicked the man's chair angrily, watching with great pleasure as Falman toppled to the ground as a result. Though Falman's body still glowed faintly from his sore muscles, he didn't seem affected by a little tumble from his chair.

 

A small hand rested on Jean's shoulder and he looked down to see Fuery's large dark eyes looking up at him. A small smile was on his face but it was gentle and he was relieved at least there was one understanding person.

 

"Come on, sir. Falman needs to get in a few laughs for himself. He always gets the worse in our fun. Besides, when the papers come in for why you missed yesterday's formation the Colonel would be the one telling the story. I think Falman actually did you a favor," the man reminded him.

 

The entire office had heard about every insult known to man come out of Major Elric's mouth just to get thrown at the Colonel. Some of them were earned and others were completely uncalled for, but the one that Jean thought accurately described their commanding officer was 'ruthless one upping bastard'. Out of all of the pranks that the lot of them pulled on each other in the office, not one person wanted to be on the losing end of the Colonel's. Not only would they meet the worse humiliation of their life, but the Colonel had such a way of dragging it out so that it never lost its bitter touch. Jokes often got boring when repeated; the Colonel never made them die, which made the humiliation even worse. If that man was the one who got to break the ice of Jean's misadventure to the hospital, he would be retiring with the entire office still laughing at him. Fuery was right, Falman did save him on that one. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

 

"Mustang is still going to hear about it either way, and that'll be a whole new pain in the—"

 

"Ass?" Breda suggested from where he was on the floor, a wide smirk on his face.

 

Jean felt a match strike in him, and he launched himself at the man. Though large, Breda hastily got up from the floor and leaped over his own desk, not caring that he kicked a whole stack of files to the floor. Jean pushed himself after him and then around the office. Breda threw chairs in his way in hopes of deterring his pursuit, but nothing would deter him. He was going to kill that man. He was going to kill him, and laugh as he was doing it.

 

"Come on! It was a joke! Why do you always have to be a sore loser, Havoc?" Breda screamed as he clambered up onto the windowsill. "Besides! Shouldn't you be after Falman? He's the one who blabbed his mouth!" Jean ignored the man's pleas and continued trying to make grabs at him, but like a snake he was too slick, always escaping his reach by mere inches. Jean grew frustrated and threw his arms in the air in defeat, an angry growl thrown to the sky.

 

"You know what? Fuck you," he exclaimed. "Fuck all of you, especially you Falman! You just sit here in the office every day doing nothing. Even though I was out, all of my paperwork was done. I still did everything I needed to do! I was the one who got some real shit done yesterday!"

 

"Wait… did you just—" Fuery started but his thought was cut off when the door to the office was thrown open and they were immediately called to attention by the humanoid rule book named Falman.

 

Jean didn't care that he promised not to call Falman names after large boring books. They weren't that harsh and the man broke his promise anyway. Now Jean vowed that Falman would always be called a walking encyclopedia for as long as he lived.

 

"What the fuck are all of you doing?" the young voice of Edward asked them as he saw them all standing there at attention. He was in blue. Trading in his red coat, Edward had donned the military's uniform, ribbons and medals surpassing even Jean's own.

 

Everyone grew silent as they stared at their youngest officer. He no longer looked small and young, but strong, broad chested, and slowly reaching maturity. Jean was completely blown away by the transformation. He didn't think that the Major would ever wear his uniform, let alone be seen in public with it.

 

Edward entered the room and glared at Falman for calling them all to attention, waving them all into ease.

 

"My wife seamed them well then, sir?" Falman asked as Edward tugged uncomfortably at the cuffs.

 

Ed nodded as he scanned himself from the bloused hems of his pants on up to his very decorated shoulders. For someone who never wore his uniform, all of his pins and ribbons were perfectly placed. Even the most well-dressed soldier in the military had one thing wrong with their uniform, whether it was a smudged button to a unlevel ribbon, there was always one thing that was wrong with it. Jean suspected that with how perfectly placed all of Edward's medals were and how well they were shined, Alphonse had a hand in straightening the young soldier out. With the younger brother's keen eyes, if he had a body and could have joined the military with his brother, he would have made the best officer Jean would ever know. Detail was a rarity in the military, even though it was always stressed.

 

"Yeah, she was great. Everything fits wonderfully. I just wish I don't have to wear this monkey suit though," Edward mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

 

A low whistle escaped Breda's mouth as he got a look at the kid.

 

"Major Edward Elric, sir! You are a ladies' man!" the man hooted, a prideful smirk growing on his face.

 

Edward looked up at him, his face growing red with embarrassment. "Wh-what?" he gasped in confusion with the change in conversation. "I-I don't want girls to look at me—"

 

"Then men?" Fuery suggested, hoping to be helpful, but his comment was ignored.

 

"I don't want a relationship. I just want to get out of this uniform!" Edward complained, obviously not wanting to continue in this direction of thought.

 

The office knew a lot about their youngest officer like what his favorite food was, that he didn't like milk, and that he knew a lot more about country life than he let on. But, there was one thing they didn't know and couldn't figure out; what type of relationship he was into. Edward never dated. He never even thought about that stuff. Most people at least dreamed about having a relationship when they were a teenager, but Edward was reaching his mid-teens and still wasn't interested in any of it. People made jokes that he hooked up with his mechanic every time he went to get automail maintenance done, but they never really knew. His relationship status was a mystery. Jean guessed it was because he was always working so hard to help his brother, but there was a point in time where Edward would need to take some time for himself. Jean just needed to show him the light.

 

He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest. Jean was going to tell the wondrous tales of relationships. "Edward, when I was your age I was into girls, and I was a dating man. Even though you travel and study a lot, I think you are missing the beauty of it all. Women are the joy of the world, the diamond center of it. They are unique with their own cut, and yet each will give you the greatest amount of happiness in the world. The only hard part about it is to find a lady with whom your connection is mutual," Jean told him, trying to make him see the light of it all.

 

However, Breda, being the bastard, he was, slung an arm around the kid's shoulder as a huge grin spread across his face. "You sound like a poet, Havoc. But I think taking relationship advice from you would end Edward's dating life before it even began."

 

"Hey!" Jean shouted as he heard the rather sharp and hurtful jab from Breda. He was trying to educate Edward for the future, but Breda was insulting his advice. "I'll have you know, I have had many relationships!"

 

"How long did they last?" Breda smirked with his retort.

 

"Most recent one was less than a day with the youngest Armstrong sister—"

 

"SHUT UP FALMAN!" Jean howled, wanting to strangle the bastard even more now.

 

The Warrant Officer backed away from him to get some distance before he pounced. That little head start might be the difference between life and death. Before Jean could even begin to tear the man's throat out, the door opened again and everyone froze in their spot as they caught sight of who was standing in the doorway.

 

Jean would never claim he was the smartest person. He would never claim he was the strongest or the bravest. He didn't say these things because he had so many people around him who already were. Falman was smart. Elric was brave. Armstrong was… well, strong. But there had to be something someone liked about him. He'd dated many women and each seemed disappointed in him. He was dumped millions of times, which the guys in the office loved to rub in his face. He couldn't keep a relationship no matter how hard he tried. He got dumped because he was late from work. He got dumped because he was too tall. He even got dumped once because he accidentally dropped a bowl of mashed potatoes on the girl's head. But as many times as he got rejected, he'd only broken up with one person in his entire life. He could definitely say that it was the worst mistake in his life.

 

The one and only girl that Jean ever really connected with understood his honesty the most. He would tell her that the Colonel held him over and she would give him an ear to rant to and a beer to cheer his spirits. When he left for training, she would slip him some insect repellent that he knew he would have forgotten. This woman was everything he dreamed of. She would laugh at all of his jokes and make some of her own. He would take her on a pheasant hunt only to find that she never missed. He was utterly fascinated by this strong and independent woman who could build up your confidence and tear down your pride all with one snarky comment. He fell in love in a way he knew he never would again. But the Colonel made him dump her when they moved their command to Central, and then he hadn't seen her again. Until that day.

 

Rebecca Catalina stood in the doorway of the office, her powerful personality leaking through her being from her smile to the way she cocked her hip as she stood there taking in the scene. She seemed to defy gravity with her own strength, and only a small amount of Illumination in the form of a bruised elbow betrayed her. Jean was absolutely baffled at her sudden appearance in the Command Center, but everyone else was not as surprised. They all greeted her with open arms and a few jokes like it was a normal day in the office.

 

"You were supposed to come in last night." Fuery noted her bags at her side. Her ruffled clothes and luggage were obvious signs of her delay.

 

"Some of the trains were rerouted because of the Optain flooding. The fastest I could do was today." Her savory voice caught Jean's ears like a venus fly trap.

 

Her brown eyes latched onto his and he instantly felt his heart leap into his throat. "R-Rebecca, what are you doing here?" he stumbled, feeling his face heat up with anxious fervor, fighting both the temptation to kiss her and instinct to run away.

 

Her eyes slithered over his face, absorbing every detail they could. Drinking her fill, a sly smirk slid across her face. It was one she normally wore when she was not up to anything but wanted you to believe she was. "Alas, my great and valiant knight, I am not here for you. I heard there was another person here who needed to be graced with my presence before my deployment to the south—"

 

"Th-the south? You're going all the way down there?" Jean asked. The office around him acted like it was old news, but it was very new to him. The southern border was tough and dangerous. If she was going down there even for just a few months, it could mean anything.

 

However, even though her fate was looming over her shoulder, Rebecca laughed at him. Her lighthearted, carefree attitude was contagious, but a rather mocking way to cope. Jean always wished he was as lighthearted as she was, or at least a little bit luckier so he wouldn't have to be.

 

"Yeah, news travels slow through your ear doesn't it?" she chuckled. "Yeah, I'm leaving down south. I wonder how batty old Grumman will carry on without me back in East City. I'm still trying to figure out if he's a genius or just senile," Rebecca pondered lightly. She gave up her efforts in a shrug. "I guess if I come back and he left his wig in the closet he's just a genius."

 

"A wig?" Edward whispered to Jean curiously, not understanding what he meant. Everyone in the unit, except Edward, had a large dose of the General's eccentricity when they were stationed at Eastern Command. The old man was notorious for "forgetting" that he put his jello in someone's desk drawer as well as dressing up in one of many disguises and sneaking around the command center to avoid his work. Jean one time found the General dressed as a secretary near the Eastern Branch Library. It scarred him for life. Edward was not around East Command to know of the General's escapades. Frankly, Jean was relieved to know that he was spared from the experience.

 

Once more the door of the office opened as if it was a cliché in a poorly written romance novel to introduce new scenes. The two missing soldiers from the unit stepped through the door to complete the little family they had for only five days a week. Colonel Mustang was leading Lieutenant Hawkeye in as she walked around with her eyes closed. It seemed he wanted it to be a surprise, and now Jean realized why Rebecca was there at all.

 

Hawkeye looked tired. The bags under her eyes told of little sleep and her shoulder was burning with such a bright light that Jean imagined it was killing her. She was obviously upset about something and was spending too much time at the range. Though it was very common for Hawkeye to go to the firing ranges to practice her marksmanship, there was a healthy amount and a worrisome amount of training one could do. The woman was already deadly as it was. He knew that Hawkeye needed an old friend to get her mind off of things. Even though Jean was sour for not being the reason Rebecca came to the Command Center, he knew Hawkeye really needed this day to get off.

 

When Hawkeye opened her eyes and caught sight of Rebecca standing there with her arms open, the largest smile spread across the woman's face. Jean didn't think he'd ever really seen Hawkeye smile like that before.

 

"Rebecca! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed.

 

Her question was better received than when Jean asked. Though he felt a shy tickle of jealousy flicker in his chest, Jean choked it down and gave the women space. After all, it was he who dumped Rebecca. There were some things that one could not go back to.

 

Instead of watching the reunion, everyone else started to spread out and give them space. The Colonel informed the Lieutenant that she was to have the afternoon off before he turned his attention to Edward and dragged him to his office for his travel papers for the funeral. Edward complained the whole way for waiting so long.

 

Jean dragged himself over to his desk and leaned lazily against it as he listened the chipper voices of Rebecca and Hawkeye plan their day out. It was odd seeing Hawkeye have a one on one conversation with another female soldier. Though women weren't scarce in the military, Jean didn't realize until that moment that he never really saw Hawkeye talk to the other women in the Command Center. He sometimes caught her exchanging news with the front door guard, or saying hello to Sheska at the library, but a real conversation was scarce. With Rebecca she talked so naturally, as if she had just seen her the other day. Their own unit was men and only men aside from the lone Lieutenant. Jean almost laughed at the idea that if the Colonel were to get his miniskirt dream a reality, the only woman he would be able to see in it would be—

 

There was a soft groan and Jean looked up from his thoughts to see Hawkeye grabbing her right shoulder. Sparkling lights danced out between her fingertips, which held a firm grasp on the cloth of her uniform. In an instant it died down, but everyone seemed to notice. Worried faces were plastered on everyone, even Rebecca, at seeing Hawkeye affected by the Illumination so badly. Hawkeye never got hurt, or if she did, she didn't show it. Now the light was obviously affecting her on the worst day it could.

 

"Oh dear, Riza," Rebecca said. She held her hand tenderly in front of Hawkeye's shoulder, as if she could feel the light bouncing into her palm.

 

"I pulled a few muscles at the firing range. I was practicing on the 240B and its kick was just a bit bigger than I remembered it. Getting a bit rusty I imagine," she said with a lighthearted smile.

 

"You? Rusty? Now that's a joke," Breda chuckled. He looked like he was trying to laugh it off, but he knew, like everyone else, that Hawkeye had spent too much time at the firing ranges. She needed to get away from them for her own health.

 

Rebecca and Hawkeye started to talk about alternate plans for their day since her shoulder was bothering her so much. Hawkeye was very reluctant to change plans, but even Jean could see how tired she was.

 

A wave of guilt washed through him. He and Riza were pulling skeet a few days earlier with their shotguns. He had left when he got tired, but Hawkeye stayed behind to shoot some more. If he had just talked Hawkeye into leaving the ranges with him, maybe she wouldn't have overworked herself. He knew that wouldn't have been the case. With how much she had gone in the past week, he knew that one day wouldn't have made a difference, but he still should have talked to her about easing off the gunpowder for a day.

 

The problem was, he didn't just feel guilty for Hawkeye's shoulder. He felt guilty because he actually was happy about it. He admitted to himself that he was jealous about Rebecca spending the day with Hawkeye rather than him. He knew it was a foolish thought. He was the one who had broken up with her, albeit reluctantly. He didn't talk to her much since then either. Knowing that it wasn't something he should think about, Jean shook the thought from his head with a sigh and shoved his hands deep into his pockets to find comfort in a cigarette.

 

He heard a light rattle when his hand brushed against something smooth. He pulled it out curiously and found himself looking at a smooth bottle of pain relievers, the ones Falman gave him. They came in handy the previous night. Though Falman blabbed his mouth about the whole embarrassing event, Jean was grateful for the small mercy of gifting him pain relievers for the night.

 

Jean looked up at Hawkeye's bright shoulder and her aggravating conversation about that day. He glanced down at the bottle once more and sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. It was her day off. He shouldn't be jealous.

 

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," Jean called out as he pushed himself off his desk. He grabbed her hand and pushed the small bottle of pills into her palm.

 

Her eyes widened in surprise as she glanced down at the bottle that now rested in her hand.

 

"This might help a bit."

 

"How did you know I ran out?" Hawkeye asked him gratefully.

 

"You're too smart to have forgotten. Take them. I don't need them anymore."

 

"Thank you, Havoc," she said honestly.

 

Jean felt the little cruel bubble in his heart pop and dissipate as Hawkeye returned to her plans with Rebecca. However, before he could feel good about doing an act of kindness, he heard a snicker from behind him.

 

"Are you sure you won't have any more late-night evacuations, Havoc?" Breda chuckled.

 

"Shut up!" Havoc whined. The two female soldiers laughed as they grabbed their coats to leave. As Hawkeye went to the adjoining office to alert the Colonel of her departure, Rebecca stepped forward into an unannounced conversation.

 

Jean's mouth went dry in anticipation, his heart rate picking up in memorial to the old memories of his nights never to be forgotten. Instead of reaching out to shake his hand or touch his shoulder, like any person would do, she stood next to him and bumped his elbow with hers playfully. To some it might be an awkward gesture, but to Jean it was a sincere one.

 

Hawkeye wasn't the only one who was well trained in shooting. Havoc and Rebecca used to frequent the range with each other in Eastern Command. They also made a pastime of hunting in the vast fields of eastern Amestris. They were both a good shot, but Jean would never admit that Rebecca was better. With their arms carefully holding their fire arms they would often bump elbows instead of touch hands. It was something simple that they did, but Jean never realized how much he missed it till then. His eyes widened in shock as he looked back at Rebecca, surprised that she even remembered the small gesture. The look in her eyes seemed to ask him "how could I forget?"

 

He guessed he really did fall apart with Rebecca, because what came out of her mouth was completely different than the romantic thoughts he had spun in his head.

 

"So, I am guessing you're still full of shit aren't ya?" Rebecca smirked cheekily.

 

Jean felt his face burn red in embarrassment as the woman laughed at his flustering attempt to defend himself. It wasn't cruel, but Jean wanted to imagine it was, as if it would take the sting away from her memory. But she did it again, bumping her elbow against his, and along with it she muttered a sincere word of gratitude before spinning around to where Riza was coming back out of the Colonel's office.

 

"Hey, Riza, you ready to hit the town?"

 

"Sure am," the woman replied. The office grew eerily quiet as the two women exited. The scene of Rebecca and Hawkeye was quite common back in Eastern Command. It was a sweet reunion desperately needed in the bitter air of Central. Jean watched their leave with his thoughts wandering back to Eastern Command. Why did he ever leave?

 

"I forgot how much of a firecracker she was," Fuery hummed as he passed Jean's desk with a pile of disorganized papers. They were the ones that Breda had kicked from his desk that morning in his retreat. Fuery seemed to have offered to help the man organize them again.

 

"How on earth did you ever hook up with her in the first place, Havoc?" Breda questioned as he stood up from where he was picking up lost pages, his knees glowing from kneeling so long. Jean thought he was going to make another jab at him but there was none.

 

The man's honest question cut to the heart as Jean began to question—how did he get with Rebecca? He was horrible at making relationships, even worse at keeping them, but with Rebecca it felt natural, and he had put so much effort into making it last even though it was doomed to fail.

 

He had met up with Rebecca in a tavern out in the countryside of Amestris. He didn't know who she was at the time because he was stationed out in a small dispatch unit before his transfer to Eastern Command where he was assigned under Colonel Mustang. Rebecca had caught his eye immediately and after a stereotypical damsel in distress moment with a drunken hunter a few stools down, Jean stepped up as the mighty hero to save the day. It was how every sappy book went. It was a bruised eye later that Rebecca slapped him in the face for picking a fight in the bar even though he won. It hurt but he knew he was in love after that. They exchanged names, they traded numbers, they shared drinks, and they swapped a light kiss. After that it was history.

 

Jean sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, waving off the sweet memory that left a bitter taste in his heart.

 

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled, turning his back to the door. He spotted Elric talking to Falman in the corner. He'd was too preoccupied by his thoughts to notice that Ed had left the inner office.

 

Edward was holding a thin file which contained his travel information. They seemed to be exchanging words of gratitude with each other before Edward's departure.

 

Looking at Edward, Jean wondered if not falling in love was a better solution to life's heartache. He wondered what it would have been like if he had spared himself that night long ago from a black eye. He pondered only a few seconds before shaking his head. Though his life be damned now, for Rebecca Catalina, he probably still would have taken the black eye.

 

….

 

Jean sat at the small table crammed into the corner of his apartment's kitchen. The fluorescent lights flickered with a soft clicking noise as they chased the shadows to the far corners of the room. Jean sighed as he took a sip of his small glass of scotch and flipped the page of his newest library book. It was an obscure romance novel by a nameless author that anyone could get in box of dollar books at the drugstore. Everyone at the unit assumed that Jean never read a book in his life; though he wasn't the smartest in the bunch, he did like to read some… educational books on romance. It was a guilty pleasure.

 

The apartment was silent as he read except for the crackling of the radio. It played static, the station having turned off for the night a while ago. The blank noise would drive some people crazy, but it almost filled a space in his apartment that had been empty since he moved to Central. Almost.

 

Officers typically did not stay in the military housing provided for them, but Jean had no need for a bigger house, nor did he want one. The apartments were crammed and awkwardly planned out, but they still felt too big when he was the only person to fill it. The couch was used only on one side. The kitchen cabinets only had one set of dishes stacked on the shelves. The bed only had one silhouette pressed into the mattress. It seemed like such a waste of space for one person. Often wanting to fill the void in his apartment, Jean would invite Fuery over for some drinks, but the Sergeant had a weak stomach and never stayed for more than one. When guests left, the result was like they never came at all. The hole still was left unfilled, and getting bigger.

 

Pausing at the end of a chapter after the main character invited himself into the girl's apartment for an exciting night, Jean leaned across the table and turned the volume of the radio up. Hearing the imaginary tunes of the station long since dead, he closed his book and sat back in his chair with another sip of liquor on his lips.

 

He never drank to get drunk. It was a pointless excursion to drown oneself in alcohol to relieve oneself of pain or unwanted emotions when they would not only be back after the night is over, but also with a hangover to get one's mood completely down. Has he gotten drunk at a party? Loads of times. Parties aren't fun unless you can't remember them. But drinking by oneself is a different art, one that he had perfected over the years. He knew his limits and he knew himself. The only thing he wished for was to know another person.

 

The clock ticked into the night, and Jean found that his scotch had disappeared. Knowing he was not going to get another one, he stood up from the table and kicked in his chair. He slipped the novel under his arm before depositing the glass in the sink to wash in the morning. It was a habit of his to wash dishes as soon as they were made. Only having one set, he needed to reuse them, and a pile of dirty dishes was just a hassle. But tonight, even a single unwashed glass seemed to make the apartment look that much more full. He could pretend he wasn't alone.

 

Jean yawned tiredly as he shuffled through his living room towards his bedroom to sleep the night away. It was ten o'clock, but he felt like it had been ages since he had seen his bed. He was halfway across the room when he heard a sharp and clear knock on the door. The sound made him pause mid-step as his head turned towards it. He looked at the ugly green door with suspicion, as if it was playing tricks on him. In the barracks, he wouldn't put it past himself. People, often being bored out of their minds and on their long drunken walk back from the local bars would run down the hallways and knock on any door they happen upon. It would torment every person still up and drive them all insane as they got up to check their doors. Jean took another glance at the clock and reasoned to himself. It was too late for Fuery or the Elric brothers to be visiting should they even consider it. If it wasn't a drunken prank the person outside was surely confused on the apartment number.

 

Jean was about to continue into his bedroom when there it was again, the sharp rap on the door. Odd. Curiosity peaked his interest, and Jean hobbled over to the door, quickly tucking his book away in a nearby drawer before opening it. The dead bolt easily fell out of its place, having been broken for ages. Jean had sent in many maintenance requests to get the darn thing fixed, but none were answered. He guessed that the military had no time to care about thefts or murders in their barracks. It didn't really matter, though, since no one in their right mind would consider trying to rob a building full of military soldiers.

 

The door creaked open on rusty unoiled hinges, and the window into the hallway slowly got bigger. Beyond the green door was not a drunken private or one of Jean's own friends from the unit, but the stunning bundled up form of Rebecca Catalina.

 

He felt his jaw drop to the ground as he saw her standing outside of his door late at night. She was different from when he remembered her in the offices. Something about her struck him to the core. It wasn't her clothes, it wasn't her body or hair—those things were masks of a woman's true intentions. It was the way she held herself. The strong woman in front of him who was so sure about the world, stood like she knew it. Jean never saw her so empowered before, and yet so unsure. A hesitation was in her eyes that didn't belong there.

 

Before she could even give words to what they were asking him, he opened the door wider and stepped to the side allowing her into his apartment.

 

It might have been the romance novel's entrancing plot still sticking into the back of his mind, but he could practically hear her questions unspoken. Can I come in? Are you still reading those cheesy books? Can I sit on the couch with you? His mind spun through the chapters of his own dreams start to finish and he imagined where they would end up. But knowing Rebecca never accepted the plots of them, he threw the thoughts from his mind and allowed her into his apartment just to warm up from the cold night.

 

She glided past him and shed her coat, dropping it to the ground along with her scarf as if she didn't know there was a coat hanger on the back of the door. She plopped herself onto the half used couch and groaned, massaging her eyes as if she were exhausted. Jean could tell she was more awake now than she had been the entire day. He didn't put it past her.

 

"All of the hotel rooms were full. I forgot to call ahead," she pouted.

 

"It isn't a holiday or anything. I don't know why they wouldn't have one," Jean mumbled as he opened the desk next to the doorway and plucked the book he was reading out of it. He didn't have to hide the horrible books when Rebecca was there; she had seen his place back in Eastern Command too many times to forget.

 

Rebecca, hearing his blunt response, frowned, crossing her arms defiantly.

 

"Well, they were," she said in a way that made Jean highly doubt she was telling the truth.

 

He rolled his eyes and sat down on the couch next to her, flicking the table side lamp on. His page was marked by a ripped piece of paper, and he flipped open to his spot with a twitch of his thumb. Before he even looked at the first saucy word, Rebecca had cleared the cushioned distance between them and was looking over his shoulder. Her eyes scanned the pages, already ahead of him and wondering what came next. It reminded him of the late nights they used to have with each other. After a long day of work, hours of hunting in the fields, they would go back home and sit quietly by the fire, reading their books. Rebecca hated romance novels—she said they were always full of clichés and were not realistic at all. She never followed romantic expectations, and Jean knew that. He knew it very well. But she always seemed to forget the current book she was reading and would look over his shoulder instead. For proclaiming how much better murder mysteries were than Jean's cheap novels, it seemed far too habitual for her to forget her book for it to be a coincidence.

 

Jean glanced down to where Rebecca's head was already resting on his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips.

 

"You can stay here," he offered, knowing it wasn't much more of a suggestion than a known fact. She wouldn't have come if she knew he wouldn't let her. He wouldn't have opened the door if he knew she wasn't staying. "I can take the couch. You can have my bed. It would be softer."

 

"Like hell you are taking the couch," she scoffed at his idea. She barely looked up from the book, as if she had this conversation every Tuesday night.

 

"You want the couch?" Jean asked, very confused.

 

"No. I don't want the couch."

"But then if you want the bed, but I can't sleep on the couch…." Jean mumbled, his thoughts connecting to one another as he spoke them aloud.

 

Rebecca looked up at him, her large eyes illuminated in the dim lamplight. A sly grin stretched from ear to ear, and Jean's eyes widened in shock. "Now you're catching on," she whispered. She sat up and pecked him lightly on the cheek. The action nearly made Jean's heart burst into two.

"Oh shit," he breathed out, dropping his book from his hands. He wouldn't need to read it to know the ending.


	8. Chapter Eight

**_Glow_ **

Chapter 8

 

Riza picked up the last form on her desk and dropped it neatly on the pile to her right. It was a relief to have gotten all of them finished, but she knew that there was a certain Colonel who would have thought differently. The pile of papers that had once darkened her own desk were on a one-way ticket to the Colonel’s office for their final signatures. Signatures that would have to wait for another day.

Unlike the rest of them, the Colonel had traded his free Sundays for a free Saturday. The rest of the unit worked through the weekend stacking pile upon pile of papers on top of the Colonel’s desk. The man would then come in on Sunday and complain that there was too much paperwork for one person to handle before proceeding to either sign them or hide them behind the radiator. Riza frequently had to check the various hiding spots to make sure the man wasn’t slacking.

Today she had promised to leave him an extra tall stack of papers for the trick that he had played on her not two days prior. She never took a day off even though she was allowed at least one a week. She not only needed to complete her own work as thoroughly as possible, but also keep the men in the unit from destroying the place. The one time she was too sick to go into work was the day that her unit simultaneously set fire to and flooded the office. The fire had turned out to be Major Elric’s and the Colonel’s most recent bout with each other. The water was a result of Fuery ignoring a maintenance request and trying to fix the sink himself. She was only relieved that when she went out with her friend Rebecca, nothing blew up. In fact, the office was cleaner than when she had left it. That was probably a cause of the unit blowing off all their steam at Havoc’s expense. Either that or the fact that Elric had left the premises.

Riza was grateful for the surprised visit by Rebecca. She hadn’t seen her friend in ages and with her upcoming deployment she knew that the chances to catch up with each other were coming to an end. Communications would be harder to maintain and even letters by post would be slow and unbearable for her. The border was not a friendly place and Riza was frankly worried for her friend’s safety. Though they didn’t do much on their day out together, they were able to go to a café and talk about everything that they couldn’t over the phone. They spewed endless conversation the entire day, hoping each new topic would not be their last. Riza didn’t want her friend to be deployed and her stress of missing her friend was used to overwork her shoulder at the firing ranges. It still glowed like all of the suns in the galaxy. Riza was very grateful for the pain medicine that Havoc gave her and even then, she knew she would stay away from the ranges until her shoulder healed after the long lecture Rebecca gave her about taking care of herself. That really was the last thing she said to her before her train took her away.

A sad pang flew through her chest as she picked up her coat to leave the office. How she missed the old days in Eastern Command. Everything was so easy there and she knew everyone. Though she didn’t regret following the Colonel to Central, East City was her home for the longest time. Even to the most devout traveler, leaving a familiar place was hard. Leaving familiar faces even harder.

She and Rebecca used to always go to the ranges and shoot with each other. Rebecca used to be a horrible shot. The saying ‘not being able to hit a broad side of a barn’ really did apply to her when it came to rifles though Riza did have to admit that her friend was a genius when it came to a shotgun. Because of this, Riza would often teach her some basic techniques to improve her aim. After a few practices with her, Rebecca then surpassed everyone in Eastern Command… well except herself. Riza didn’t know what would happen to her pride if Rebecca beat her in a marksmanship competition. In return for her help, Rebecca would spend an afternoon with her and a shotgun, teaching her trick shots that would fool anyone. She always joked that men were a wonder to have, but if she depended on Havoc in a fight she might as well be dead. It was always handy to have something up your sleeve even if that might just be a 12-gauge shotgun. Though Riza never had a man of her own, she could understand what she meant after her years of dealing with the Colonel’s ingenious idiocy.

When Riza left with her unit to Central, she had to leave all of that behind. Havoc always cried that he had it worse because he had to leave his girlfriend behind. But while he left his girlfriend, Riza left her best friend. She guessed that they all had to leave something when they moved to Central. Even Edward and Alphonse Elric had to leave their hometown and childhood friends.

The drive home from the office that day was silent. Riza listened to the gentle hum of the car engine as it rattled off with a turn of her key. She had parked it square and even in her driveway, backed up for an easy escape for the next morning’s drive to work. Her house was small but homey. The yard was always neatly trimmed from her restless evenings mowing. She shuffled up the paved pathway towards her house, only pausing to pick up the newspaper that still rested on her doorstep. Normal people would have picked up their papers and read them with their morning coffee at breakfast. Riza had her breakfast on the go, having to leave before the paper even got to her door.

She tucked the paper underneath her arm after only glancing at the newest headline on the Illumination. It has been the only real news for years. Seeing the world bickering over how the Illumination was spreading or who’s light glowed the brightest only made Riza realize how unconcerned it was for actual problems. Even the real news columns that used to dig into stories on the Ishvalan refugee crisis, the border wars, or the expanding desert, resorted to cheap gossip on the Illumination. She was about to wonder why she still got it when she heard her answer on the other side of her front door.

There was a soft yip as she drew the house keys out of her uniform pocket to open her door. With the jingle of keys, the barking turned to whining as Riza knew Black Hayate was begging to be let out. It was routine every day that Riza, even with her strict discipline, knew she would never break from him. He missed her too much.

She opened the door and the worried look that spread over the young adopted pup was instantly replaced with what one could call a huge smile. Riza struggled to shuffle her way in through the door as Black Hayate bounced around her feet, barking a welcome that probably annoyed her neighbors.

“Black Hayate!” she scolded quick and sharp. The dog froze in his spot as he heard the roughness in her voice and stared up at her awaiting her order. She raised her eyebrow, not breaking her focus from him and on her silent command he lowered his butt to the floor to sit, his tail still wagging. Nodding her head in acceptance, she quickly closed the door behind her and handed the newspaper down to the dog who started to rip it up near instantly. She had tried to train him to retrieve it but after finding it too many times with pages or sections missing, she had stopped trying and just let him have it. He made more use out of the newspaper than she did.

She made her way into her own house, the clacking of claws on the wooden floors following behind her. Though Black Hayate had only been in her house for a few months, the sound of him in the made everything less empty. She didn’t know what she would do without him. When Master Sergeant Fuery found the small Shiba Inu in the streets, Riza was not considering having a pet at all. She liked her house to be very clean and had imagined that a dog would destroy the solo rhythm her life had fallen into. She could not have been more wrong. Black Hayate gave her something to focus on. She trained him, took him for walks, and in the evenings, she had a companion in her house to keep her company. Riza never realized how lonely she was by herself, especially after moving to Central. Black Hayate made the adjustment to the new city just that more bearable.

After getting changed into more comfortable clothes, Riza picked the leash off of the hook where it hung in the hallway for Black Hayate’s afternoon walk. There came a small happy yip after Black Hayate realized what she held in her hand and he instantly ran over and sat down by her side. His tail wagged quickly against the hard floors and Riza smiled as she easily bent down and hooked the leash to his collar.

Their usual route was down a few streets through the market place so that Riza could run some errands, however, having gotten her groceries and necessities the days prior with Rebecca, Riza had to settle with a walk through the park. It surely was a nice day out so it would have been a nice change. As she took a turn towards the park gate, her dog seemed to understand the change in routine and got anxious for the journey ahead of them. He walked a little faster, pulling on the leash. Her shoulder was already glowing from where she strained it on the firing ranges and it sparked at the extra pressure of Hayate’s tugging. Riza quickly reprimanded him for it and ordered him back to her side after switching hands. Knowing that wherever they were going that they would get there eventually no matter how fast they walked, Black Hayate obeyed.

The park was usually full of people on the weekends however it was getting later in the day where people would usually get home to start making dinner. Only a few lone strangers were out and about, people who didn’t have places to be or a family to care for. It made the park seem all that more inviting to Riza. It was a peaceful air that couldn’t be enjoyed with a hundred families crowded together and screaming children with falling kites. To Riza, that chaotic environment was left at work with the mess that was her unit.

The lake was rippling from the light breeze that was skipping across its glassy surface. The light dancing across it was reflecting in broken sparkles that took one’s mind away from the dull light that plagued their bodies and towards a natural beauty of brilliance. The Illumination seemed to make everything that glowed, dull and depressing. It took a wonderful warmth of the sun’s fire to remind even Riza that light wasn’t always that bad. It didn’t have to hurt. The pain in her shoulder dimmed as she stared at the sparkling lake putting her mind at ease.

When Riza made her way to the back end of the lake a bright light suddenly blinded her. She lifted her sore arm up to shade her eyes as she looked out along the shoreline of the lake. It definitely was not the water’s reflection catching her eye. Scanning the grass she spotted Alphonse sitting on a bench near the lake. The sunlight shed from the water’s surface was reflecting off of the boy’s recently shined armored body. Unlike Edward, Alphonse seemed to take care of his metal parts. Since he couldn’t wear real clothes, shining his armor was the only way to really make himself presentable. He seemed to take pride in it and was always sparkling in one way or another. Riza helped him out on several occasions when he would run out of oil. She had extra oil and polish in her weapons’ cleaning kits and they would sit down some afternoons and just polish till everything shined.

Today Alphonse’s shine seemed over casted by the anxious way he was holding himself. Though he didn’t have facial expressions, Alphonse was still very easy to read just by the way he held himself. Now, the kid was curled in on himself, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around his middle as he talked to someone who sat beside him, obscured by his large body. As Riza drew closer, the stranger who was talking with Alphonse was revealed and she noticed it was the Colonel himself.

Everyone in the office knew that the Colonel took his day off to take the younger Elric out on a Saturday walk. They would talk for hours and though no one knew what they talked about, the entire unit knew that the both of them really needed that release once a week. Riza never had run into them on their walks and definitely did not want to impede on their small ritual now. With how concerned Alphonse looked, it must have been a serious conversation that no matter how curious she was, she had no part in. Trying to briskly continue down the pathway and  avoid interrupting their conversation, she picked up on a few words that the young Elric was telling the Colonel. It was about the Optain flood that he had recently accompanied his brother to try and help. Currently Edward was in Optain to honor the funerals of the few fallen people, killed in the flood’s raging waters. Without his brother there, Riza assumed that he needed someone to talk to. The Colonel always seemed to be that person.

“It was like a light bulb blowing out,” Riza heard Alphonse mutter, the shock in his voice still present as he reminisced the flood. “The light just grew brighter and brighter till…. There was nothing. Is that what it looks like for people to die, Colonel?” the kid’s shaky voice asked. The Colonel shook his head as he rubbed his neck tiredly.

“I…,” he started to reply but cut himself off as he thought again about what he wanted to say. It seemed he was lost for words. “Alphonse… In Ishval I saw countless of people die. But before the Illumination, I don’t think I ever knew exactly what it was like to see someone really die. It was all life then… nothing a second later. There was no transition.”

“I was really little when our mother died. I don’t think that I really knew what was going on at the time until she just wasn’t there anymore. After seeing the Illumination, I think maybe she would have looked like those people in Optain. No more light, no more pain.” There was a pause in the conversation as it seemed that neither of them really knew what to say next. The notes to the tune were uncomfortably heavy and dragging them through the conversation was a very tedious task. After a few seconds of pondering however, Alphonse finally asked, “I can’t feel anything, but… does the Illumination itself… hurt?”

“No but… I can’t really remember what it was like without it now. The lights are annoying but they don’t hurt.”

“Nothing’s different?” Alphonse asked curiously, wanting to know something that he himself could not experience. The Colonel was about to shake his head but paused for a second as he thought about it.

“There’s acknowledgement. You cannot deny pain anymore. You can’t say that it’s in one’s head. You know it is there because you can see it. But people are still oblivious to it all. No one cares. Nothing will be done,” the man mumbled, his voice sounding disappointed in a way.

“It’s silly,” Alphonse noted, “I would have expected something good to come out of the Illumination.”

As Riza was passing, Black Hayate suddenly let out a loud and happy bark as he caught sight of the Colonel. The two men sitting on the bench suddenly looked behind them to see the source of the wracket and caught sight of her strictly scolding her dog to be quiet. The Colonel seemed to recognize her instantly and a smile suddenly spread across his face, wiping away any trace of the tiring conversation he shared with the armor beside him. He lifted his hand and waved her over to where they were sitting quietly by the lake. Though Riza knew that she should have continued her walk with Black Hayate, she also knew that the dog would not miss a chance to meet some people, especially if one of them was Alphonse Elric. She carefully walked down the small slope towards where they were sitting and Alphonse cleared a small spot on the bench beside him.

“What are you two doing out this late? It’s almost dinner time,” Riza commented lightly, making small talk after a long day. As she sat down, Alphonse immediately bent over to start petting Black Hayate who took to chasing his tail at the armor’s feet for attention.

“You know,” the Colonel shrugged. “Talking about this and that, nothing much.” The look in his dark eyes told her that it was a long day, and simplicity was a gift to wish for. It was obvious he knew that she had overheard her though Alphonse was none the wiser. She smiled weakly in hopes of telling him that she understood and would leave the conversation be. The look seemed to settle the Colonel’s dragging mind a bit and he returned to staring at the ripples of the lake. Alphonse however had much more he wanted to talk about. It seemed that they didn’t go down to the lake just for their weekly chat after all.

“We are waiting for Edward to get back from the train station. He’s coming in tonight from the funeral service and the park is a lot closer than the barracks,” Alphonse noted. “I think after how hectic the last few weeks were that he might enjoy a day out for a while. Relax a little bit.”

“Are you sure he wouldn’t just want to sleep the train ride off?” Riza asked him a little curious.

“He will probably groan about it but… I think it would be better for him just to enjoy something after Optain. It was really stressful for me. I don’t know how he is taking it after being back a second time,” the armor noted, a small reflection of a memory casted through his fiery eyes for a second just to disappear with the fading ripples of the Colonel’s dropped conversation. It seemed that everyone just wanted to let it go. Riza thought it was for the best.

 Silence flooded the park as they stared out across the lake at the glimmering lights. Though they all bore their own lights it was entrancing to watch them dance across the ripples of the glassy water. Alphonse continued to play with Black Hayate who was laying on his back waiting for the large suit of armor to scratch his stomach. Riza smiled a little bit as she watched them. Though the kid could not feel the fur beneath his fingers, he gave the best pets as judgement by the countless purrs from the stray cats he picked up and by the way Black Hayate pressed farther into the leather glove of his hand begging for more. Riza knew that if Alphonse could smile, he would. She thought it a shame that Alphonse was so lonely all the time. Even though everyone in the office would try and to keep the young Elric company,  the soldiers who lived in the barracks would take turns with late night visits to the Elric apartment, everyone needed their sleep. If only Alphonse was able to have a cat or a dog like he wanted, maybe he wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. But, they couldn’t take care of a pet if the two young alchemists were rarely home. It was one too many things to think about when on the search for something that doesn’t exist. However, Riza knew that because he couldn’t have a pet of his own, didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy one.

“You know Alphonse, I sometimes need help with Black Hayate when I go out on errands. You are free to take care of him some time,” Riza noted. A small excited gasp escaped out of the cool armor as the helmet looked up at her. If he could show expression she would have said he was joyfully shocked. Though he couldn’t smile physically, that didn’t mean he didn’t.

“Really?” he asked, the flabbergast stuck to his voice. Riza grinned and simply nodded her head. The armor turned back down to where Black Hayate was begging for a longer massage. “You hear that?” Alphonse said to the dog. “I can hang out with you sometimes!” Seeming to understand nothing else but the fact that the armor equaled pets, Black Hayate barked happily, very pleased with the idea.

The world passed back into a peaceful silence once more until a sudden voice shouted out towards them. Instantly, everyone looked up and to their left to see a small figure running down the path. It was Edward, coming back from the funeral services in Optain. He was dressed in simple slacks as he must have gotten changed out of his uniform on the train back. Judging by the crumpled duffle bag, Riza had to guess that his newly tailored dress uniform was a wrinkled mess now. The kid’s golden hair swayed down his back in a braid as glowing rings seemed to encircle Edward’s entire body. The train ride was obviously rough on him but the look on his face was anything but grumpy. He was tired, yes, but oddly at peace.

“Hey, Edward, how was your trip?” Alphonse asked as he tightened his grip on Black Hayate as the dog seemed rather excited to the new presence. He kept the small pup pinned to his chest plate as his older brother collapsed down on the last spot of free space left on the bench right next to the Colonel. He was breathing heavily like he had ran a mile.

“Good. It went well,” Edward said lightheartedly but didn’t go into any details. Riza met the Colonel’s eyes and each of them offered a small smile. She was proud of Edward for taking the initiative to see the families of the people in Optain. The kid really cared for everyone and she knew that the people who survived the flood would have been very grateful for all of the effort a couple teenagers put into the town to keep it standing. And after it all, Edward, the Hero of the People, was as modest as ever. No one pushed him for the rest of the story of his trip, they accepted the answer they were given and eased into the idea that maybe everything was going to be alright.

Just as a gentle breeze picked up and they all took in a deep breath of the fresh air, Edward was suddenly launched out of his seat as a black lump tackled him to the ground. A bright burst of light flew out of Edward’s back and then dissipated instantly as he hit the grass beneath them. Black Hayate stood on his chest, licking the face of the elder Elric.

“Oops,” Alphonse chuckled apologetically as he had accidentally let Black Hayate escape his grasp.

“Get off, get off!” Edward growled as he struggled to get the dog off him. He eventually managed to shove Black Hayate off of his chest and stood up, wiping the slobber off of his face. He growled angrily at the animal as the Colonel and Riza tried to stifle their laughs. For some reason dogs were always attracted to Edward and Riza could never figure it out. They always jumped on him, and tackled him to the ground the instant they met Edward. However, now it seemed like Edward was sick of it. The kid growled and angrily tried to grab Black Hayate who leaped out of the way and started to run down towards the lake. In his efforts to teach the dog a lesson, Edward chased after him making Alphonse gasp in shock.

“Brother! He didn’t mean anything by it! Leave him alone!” the armor scolded his older brother as he too left the bench to try and split up the fight. Black Hayate seemed to think that Edward’s aggravation was just a game. To everyone else in the park, Riza guessed it really looked that way. She and the Colonel tried to hide their smiles as they watched the young Elrics chase the dog around by the lake side. It reminded Riza of what she imagined having a sibling was like as a kid. She always watched other kids run around, bicker, and playing with their brothers or sisters. Being an only child with a strict father didn’t give her much of a childhood to really look back on. She didn’t really have a best friend until she met Rebecca. However, as calm as the evening was, she knew that the Elrics’ fun would not last. The next morning they would pick up where they had left off on their search for the stone and return to the lives of the military most people try to avoid.

“They are growing up so quick,” Riza breathed sadly, knowing that childhood didn’t last as long as people thought it did, far shorter than anyone wanted. The Colonel’s smile faltered a little bit as he heard her comment. She could tell he was thinking the same thing.

“A little too fast for my taste,” he mumbled, reaching up and scratching his jaw tiredly. His voice was longing, like any adult longed for the nativity that they had given up ages ago. Though the Elrics’ were far from children, they still had a young optimistic outlook on the world that Riza knew she hd given up since her days in Ishval. Knowing the Colonel before they were deployed, she believed that was where he lost his optimism too.

“Being in the military, they would have to grow up fast. I know we learned very quickly since we signed up,” she said sadly, though struggling to hide a smile as she watched Edward trip on an outcropped root in the grass. He fell flat on his face and Black Hayate took the opportunity to sit on his back. The Colonel chuckled seeing this and the worry that flooded him seemed to lift.

“Sometimes,” he started out, his deep voice very entrancing as Riza saw the man scoot a little closer to her across the bench, “we all just have to act our age on our days off.” As he closed distance between them,she had a sudden feeling to move away, but she sat firmly in her spot glaring the Colonel down as he got closer. His dark eyes came very closer to her and she could read the mischief in them and hear the anticipation in his breath. The man was up to something. His strong hand rested gently on her shoulder but pursued no father as two words one learned to dread from elementary school escaped his lips.

“You’re it,” he whispered and suddenly he shot off the bench sprinting down towards the chaso that was the Elric brothers. Edward seemed to have stopped his chase by that point and was arguing with Alphonse on Black Hayate’s behavior when they spotted the Colonel streaming down the hill screaming rather loudly, “Hawkeye’s it!” They looked rather confused until Riza rolled her eyes and stood up from where she was sitting rather comfortably on the bench. The Colonel was going to pay for acting like a five year old. As she started her way down the hill after her incredibly immature superior officer, Edward’s face paled at the sight of her pursuit. It seemed that he was going to learn that day how to fear the words ‘you’re it’.

……………..

Riza walked into the Colonel’s office Sunday afternoon with a pile of papers in her hand. The thoughts that were plaguing her mind the other day about her friend had dissipated, leaving her in a better mood to get her paperwork done which meant that there would be just that much more left for the Colonel to do at the end of the day. The instant she walked into the room she was greeted with the usual grouchy officer and a blinding glow of illumination that encased him. His carpal tunnel was raging from trying to sign the giant stack of papers Riza had left on his desk from the day before. The sight of her bringing him more seemed to dissuade him from his current process of signing a Private’s promotion letter. His pen fell out of his hand dramatically and a loud groan escaped his lips as his body dropped over his desk. His back sparked obnoxiously as it scolded him for overworking himself the other day at the park. Riza remembered that he had pulled a muscle from trying to tag Alphonse around a sharp turn. She guessed that the jar in his back wasn’t helping his focus at all.

“Do you have to ruin all of my days?” the Colonel complained as she set down another stack of papers on his desk.

“If you start doing your paperwork, maybe I will stop giving you more,” she retorted. The Colonel’s dark eyes looked up to her in mock hope. Urging him to keep working with a rough nudge on the shoulder, the man let out another painful groan that hurt even Riza’s ears to listen to. He slowly crawled up into a sitting position, his back spitting and sparking bright retorts all of the way.

“Do you at least have something for me to take? I am dying here,” the man asked her. Riza, in hopes of saving her own ears from a world of complaint, reached into her pocket for the bottle of pain relievers that Havoc had given to her a few days ago. She had taken some that morning to help with her shoulder which was feeling far better than it was a few days ago. She expected that after a few more days off of the range she would be able to pick up her rifle again. However, as her hand wrapped itself around the bottle in her pocket there was a distinct lack of rattling sound as she pulled it out. The bottle was empty. She must have not realized that she had used all of it that morning. Though the small disappointment in the back of her mind told her to just say that she ran out, she saw the begging look of the Colonel and couldn’t help herself from ruining his day even farther. She handed the man the empty bottle to his surprise.

“Really?” the man asked as he tried to open it. The look of hopeful surprise vanished instantly as he realized that the bottle was completely empty of all of its contents. “Hawkeye! What a dirty trick!” he exclaimed angrily, upset that he was fooled once more. Riza smiled cleverly at the man.

“You’re an officer, sir, get your own.”


End file.
